


Breakeven

by theshizniiit (orphan_account)



Series: Breakeven (Before, During and After) [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Babies, Bottom Harry, Child Abuse, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Eye Trauma, Harry Hart Lives, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Obviously because the other possibility isn't an option, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Physical Disability, Possessive Eggsy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Eggsy, Rough Sex, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 85,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/theshizniiit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry walked inside the church (and then out of it, and right into Valentine's bullet) he didn't know he was pregnant.<br/>And now he's back from the dead. This time, with an extra passenger and quite a few problems.</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>[[COMPLETED]]</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry wakes up (albeit briefly) in a hospital room in Kentucky.

He doesn't question why he's only seeing the world out of one half of his face, because he spots Merlin hovering over him, and a sluggish part of his mind recognizes the bald, severe looking man, and knows that he's being transported back to Kingsman HQ.

_Home._

He struggles to keep his eyes open for a few more seconds, taking in the color of Merlin's jumper and the fact that he feels like his brain is moving through _molasses_ before he allows the heavy drugs flowing through his system to pull him back under.

~

"Galahad."

Harry opens his eyes for the first time since he'd gathered the strength and pressed the assistance button tied to the IV attached to his arm a few minutes ago and tries his best to turn his head to face Merlin, who's standing off to one side of his bed, digital clipboard in hand, looking down at him with concern. He hears a doctor fussing about and removing some wires that have been in his arm, because being incapacitated and confused doesn't mean that he isn't still hyper aware of his surroundings.

His first thought is that his head is killing him, his second thought is him inquiring as to why his sight seems to be limited. 

Merlin shifts and looks at the doctor, before Harry realizes he's said the second part aloud, his voice rough from disuse as his mind finally catches up with the fact that he's spoken at all. He looks around the familiar room in the medical ward, and reaches one tired, sore arm and softly touches the bandage around his head with stiff fingers. 

"Harry..." Merlin starts, and he gets the sinking feeling he's in for some rather dreadful news, Merlin never uses his first name. Not in that tone, anyway.

So Harry looks up him, braces himself for the worst and tries to keep his face blank. 

_A gentleman is composed at all times._

"The bullet barely missed your brain," the man says slowly, his eyes searching Harry's face, "You were very lucky-"

"But?" Harry prompts, _and goodness his voice sounds atrocious-_

"The doctors couldn't save your eye." Merlin replies, his voice even and his face softening just a bit.

_A gentleman is composed at all times._

"Ah." Harry says.

They are quiet for a beat, Harry processing the loss and Merlin watching him closely and gauging his reaction.

Harry finds that he doesn't feel much of anything. It also occurs to him dully that it could just be trauma and that he shouldn't celebrate his lack of an adverse emotional reaction just yet. He could wake up later, realize what's happened and have a complete meltdown.

Goodness, he hopes that's not what happens. He'd like to be able to keep his composure if at all possible.

"No bother." he croaks, and struggles with trying to sit up, which thankfully he can do although the smallest jostle makes his head ache rather terribly. He fiddles with the remote for the bed, setting it to rise to support his back before he realizes that Merlin is still standing over him looking a lot like he's swallowed his tongue. Harry looks at him expectantly for a moment before Merlin says, "...There's more."

"Well I can assure you that I do, indeed, have my other eye." Harry says smartly, trying to lighten the mood.

Merlin's frown deepens before he glances at the doctor--who has taken up adjusting the amount of drugs Harry is being administered--and then back at the man in the hospital bed, "Are you aware you hold the carrier gene, Harry?"

The world tilts on an axis a bit.

~

_Pregnant._

That what Merlin had said, right? Pregnant? As in, carrying a child? A fetus?

Harry Hart is 54, one-eyed, and pregnant.

And he knows exactly whose it is. He didn't tell Merlin this as he sat gaping at the man standing next to his bed, and the man had known that it wasn't information Harry was going to divulge, at least not yet. The conversation is quick, and he can hardly remember what was said due to the shock but he remembers the most important part.

_Pregnant._

And when he's finally left alone--Merlin giving him a concerned look and the doctor checking the machines one last time before stating that he'd be back to look in on him soon--he gives into the panic, shock and frustration. Just a little bit.

Pregnant.

He presses a shaking hand to his abdomen, his mind betraying him and imagining a small, blooming life growing just a few inches behind his hand.

A hand that has been used to pull so many triggers, to wield knives that have stabbed into so much flesh, to snap so many necks. Harry is a killer, he can't raise a child. He didn't even know it was possible for him. How can 54 years of medical exams not reveal the small fact that he can conceive and carry children? How has he gone so long not knowing? How is he going to be able to hold and cradle a baby, knowing what he's capable of? Harry knows he's capable of compassion and love, but bearing and raising a child is another thing entirely. He's always been friendly towards children, but having to raise one? With the kind of job he has?

How is he going to be able to handle any of this?

Harry Hart can do many things. But this isn't one of them.

And somehow, the thought that the fetus seems to have survived Harry's massacre at the church and Harry being shot in the head soon after--along with everything else in between--doesn't really comfort him at all. He finds himself disappointed and angry he hadn't lost it at some point during all of that bloodshed.

Then he immediately feels guilty. It's his own fault, not the child's. The little thing hasn't done anything other than simply exist, and it's because of Harry's own carelessness and ignorance that the child is even festering inside him at all.

Festering.

He won't be able to fit into his suits soon, and he entertains the idea of getting rid of it.

The child.

He could have it discarded, ripped out of his body like the tumor it is and-

He can't do that either.

It's not the child's fault, but Harry is panicking alone in his hospital room and for the first time in a very long time, has no bloody idea what to do. He feels young and vulnerable again, and has no plan.

He always has a plan. But this time he's been knocked on his ass.

And then there's the boy. He was simply too young and full of too much potential to be a father, and while--if he found out--he would insist on being in the child's life, Harry couldn't take his youth and freedom away from him. He hadn't signed up for that when he'd slept with Harry that night, after their chat about being a gentleman which led to him teaching Eggsy how to make a proper martini and the the two of them having _too many_ martinis which led to them falling into bed together and-

No. 

Harry comes to the simple conclusion that he can't tell him. 

He can't have the boy killing himself trying to take care of a baby. 

Harry, in a dark hospital room with his head on his pillow and his tired gaze on the wall opposite him, decides he'll do it alone.

It's the wisest choice.


	2. Chapter 2

_"The second lesson is how to make a proper martini."_

_"Yes, Harry!" Eggsy sighs, the relief at the lesson not being something utterly boring and droll seeping into his face and posture as he happily hops out of the chair and follows Harry out of the room._

_~_

_They make martinis._

_Harry's home is small, comfortable, nicely decorated and rather posh, but Eggsy looks quite at home leaning against the small bar in his dining room, watching Harry gather glasses and move around the area, collecting the proper ingredients an materials. He can see the boy's smile out of the corner of his eye, but he makes up his mind to ignore it and try to carry on normally, like his heart isn't hammering and his neck doesn't feel warm under the collar of his dress shirt._

_Harry takes pride in his independence and the fact that he is largely rather unflappable, even under pressure or in intense situations, but something about the boy makes him feel like a fumbling idiot. He doesn't show it, and he knows the boy doesn't see it--something he is immeasurably grateful for--but it still confuses--and if he's honest--frightens him a bit. Harry Hart has seen it all, has done it all and has kept his suit and hair immaculate the entire time-_

_that is to say--he's been around a while, and he has never been stumped, or baffled, or ruffled in any way. That had been stomped out of him by the time he completed training and was given the first bulletproof suit._

_Until now._

_But he doesn't think about that or he'll pretty much definitely embarrass himself, so he tampers it down and does his very best to act normally._

_So Harry continues on and explains the proper way to prepare the martini, and acts like he doesn't notice how Eggsy is edging closer to him and how, with each joke and drink, they just about melt further into each other, until it's about 11 pm and the boy smiles brightly and gently lays a hand on his lower back. Harry turns, drink in hand to find the boy leaning forward and before the man knows, he's being kissed rather deeply._

_It occurs to his buzzed, hazy mind that he should stop the boy, tell him that it's unprofessional (which would be quite the lie, seeing as there is no Kingsman policy that says they cannot do this), that he's far too old for him, that he should find someone as young and bright eyed as he is, but when Eggsy grabs him around the waist and presses their bodies together, the thought flees his mind. For many reasons._

_Because Eggsy's lips are soft and supple. Because he tastes like citrus. Because the boy is breathing his name into his mouth in that possessive way that makes his face flush even redder._

_Because Eggsy is biting at his lips and pulling him closer like he can't get enough of Harry, wants him in every way, wants him in his very blood._

_Because Harry knows he's lost._

_Because god, he wants this. He wants him._

_And as Eggsy licks at his bottom lip, Harry's mind empties, an he opens his mouth and accepts ruin._

_~_

Waking up is always interesting. He'd always thought so. Even when he was a child.

When he became an agent, he never knew where he would wake up. China, Nigeria, Dubai, America. He'd woken up in all manner of places, oftentimes not in the most comfortable of circumstances (like awakening in a cell in Serbia or in a ravaged hotel room after having collapsed from a stab wound in Colombia when a mission got just slightly a  _bit_  more sticky that he'd anticipated), but sometimes, he got an hour or two in Egypt, Sri Lanka or the Caribbean after a successful mission where he could just wake up in peace, a blue ocean outside or the beautiful sight of the pyramids and the even, dark brown skin of the people who were privileged enough to live in such a place. And he was thankful for his days when he could enjoy things like that because he was off and on a plane to the decimate the next threat in a few hours anyway.

Though, he was thankful for that too, because if he had to spend more than a few hours in peace and quiet he's sure he'd lose it. That hasn't changed as he'd gotten older. If anything, he'd become  _more_  restless.  _More_  willing to jump into danger. 

He tries not to think about what that means and viciously ignores the term 'mid-life crisis' whenever his mind presents it.

Anyway, the point is, Harry has always thought waking up was interesting in a way nothing else is.

Because for a few seconds, Harry,--staring at the white ceiling of his hospital room--doesn't quite remember what's happened and where he is.

And because he can't seem to catch a  _bloody fucking break_  these days, it all rushes back to him with a sharp pain in his head. It's searing and his vision flashes white for about an eighth of a second, but then it's gone, leaving a dull throbbing behind. He hears Merlin enter, but he's still far too preoccupied by the sudden pain to do any more than give a halfhearted wave in the man's direction.

 _Fucking wonderful_.

Harry clenches his eye shut--and wow, he's just remembered he only has one eye now, he'll have to think on that in depth later--before he mutters a hoarse, " _Shit._ "

"I can see you're doing well." Merlin deadpans, his clipboard in hand and his face showing a slight amusement that only people who have known him awhile-- _people like Harry_ \--would recognize.

Merlin isn't an easy man to read, but Harry isn't (or wasn't, he has no idea where he stands now) a Kingsman agent for nothing. He can see the concern, because no matter how deadpan, exasperated or blank Merlin pretends to be, he cares about his agents.

He wouldn't readily admit it though, and that's fine.

This job isn't for sentimentalists anyway.

"I'm fantastic." Harry replies, his voice monotone.  _God_ , he's exhausted. 

"Hm." Merlin says, crossing his arms and looking at the bedridden man in front of him. Harry stares back at him, and while he isn't up for conversation and knows exactly what the quartermaster is going to ask, he finds himself saying, "Just ask the damn question, Merlin."

The man in question narrows his eyes and doesn't miss a beat, "Whose is it?"

"Whose is what?" Harry asks innocently, and he can't fathom  _why_  that's the first response that came to mind, seeing as he very much  _doesn't want to talk about it-_

"Don't play stupid, Harry." Merlin says, his voice even but quiet, "Whose is it."

Harry looks away, feeling like a scolded child.

"I'm not at liberty to say." he replies moodily, a few moments later.

"Not at liberty to say." Merlin repeats, just as patient as ever until he takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, "God, Harry. Is it someone at Kingsman? Another agent?"

Harry continues staring at him, his face blank and trying not to give anything away. Looking away would tip him off and alert the man of any guilt or distress, and so Harry finds himself having an impromptu staring contest with his quartermaster.

Merlin looks right back at him for a few quiet, tense moments, searching Harry's face for any clues.

"So it is." Merlin mutters, his arms dropping to his sides.

Harry sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes, looking away because  _honestly, why did he think he could trick Merlin-_

"Harry."

Harry acts like he suddenly doesn't hear him, turning away and staring at the wall opposite Merlin, a look of innocence on his face. He's aware he's being childish but  _he really doesn't want to talk about it-_

"Harry. Just tell me." Merlin says, his voice even, "I'll find out eventually."

He's right.

He'll find out anyway and Harry'll feel odd if it isn't from him. He and Merlin have been through a lot together. They're  _friends_ , even.

"It's Eggsy's."

~

_He's under the boy, clothes and dignity gone._

_He couldn't care less though, not when Eggsy is rocking into him, hard and heavy, kissing his lips and leaving finger shaped bruises on his skin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. Writer's block and all that.  
> Tell me how you like it in the comments :)  
> or yell at me at 808s-and-disco-face.tumblr.co


	3. Chapter 3

"Galahad." Merlin says evenly, eyes trained on Harry.

"Hm?"

"It's Galahad's." the quartermaster says again, "The baby." 

Harry stares at him for a second, before it hits him, "Ah, replaced me already, have you?" he says easily. He expected as much and he isn't _upset_ about it--he doesn't feel much of anything these days, he finds--but he hadn't expected Eggsy to take his place.

Well, if it was going to be anyone, Harry finds that he's glad it's him. The boy is probably a fine agent.

"Harry."

"Hm?"

"You have to tell him."

Harry looks at Merlin and tries to sit up straighter, his head starting to throb just the slightest bit, "How do you know I _wasn't_ going to tell him?"

"Because I know _you._ " Merlin replies smartly.

They're silent for a moment, the two men staring at each other.

"Well you're right, I wasn't." Harry confesses after a few silent moments, annoyance making its way up his throat.

Merlin folds his arms, his face pinched and serious, "That's not a good idea. You need to tell him., Harry."

"I can't."

"And why's that, then?" 

" _Because he's just a boy!_ " Harry snaps before he takes a breath, clenching his fists until he sighs, "It'd ruin his life. I can't have that."

"He'd want to know." Merlin says, without missing a beat, "Eggsy is sharp. He'd find out and if it's not from you it's going to be bad, Harry."

"I'm pretty fucking sharp too, Merlin." Harry deadpans, because... _well shit_ , just because he's old and missing an eye doesn't mean he isn't still Harry- _fucking_ -Hart-

"He won't find out. I won't let him."

"It's not a good idea." Merlin insists, his face blank but his eyes giving off that disapproving glare.

"I have the occasional bad idea." Harry says sharply, "They don't _always_ blow up in my face."

"But this might."

" _'Might'_  being the operative word. I won't waste my time worrying about what _might_ happen, Merlin." Harry says dully, and he's reminded how tired he is, "I have bigger things to worry myself sick over."

Merlin is silent for a few moments, and Harry refuses to look at him.

He's made up his mind.

Harry hears a quiet but disapproving, "Very well." from Merlin before he sighs and looks up that the ceiling.

They fall silent again, until Harry murmurs an indecisive, "Maybe I should leave. Move to some remote part of the world. Never tell him I'm alive. Raise this baby in...Argentina or something."

He could. He could disappear to one of those gorgeous places he only got to visit on missions and yeah, he'd be bored of his mind, but he wouldn't have to face Eggsy. Or anyone. He wouldn't have to _explain_ , or deal with the _questions_ or the _looks_. He could raise this child in peace-

"If you think you're getting away from me now, you're sadly mistaken." Merlin says firmly, looking over his health chart on his clipboard, "You're _pregnant_ Harry, and if you thought I was hard-arse for medical examinations and checkups _before_ , you have no idea how strict I'll be _now_. You wouldn't make it to the jet. Don't try."

Harry leans back and sighs in exasperation.

~

_'Fuck, Harry,' Eggsy moans above him, thick, hard and full and-_

_Harry arches under him and gasps as Eggsy brings his lips to his collarbone._

~

He starts throwing up.

And god, he'd heard about morning sickness, but the stories never mention how utterly fucking _draining_ it is, waking up every morning and spending the first 2 hours hurling into the toilet.

Sometimes it spills over into the afternoon, and Harry ends up suffering even longer. 

He supposes he deserves it for being so careless in the first place.

~

And when he's not vomiting, he's _nauseous_. 

The food in Kingsman's medical center is better than what is expected of any hospital, but the smell still makes his stomach turn.

On top of that, Harry is just... _bored_. And tired. He wants a mission and he simultaneously wants to sleep, and oddly enough, cry.

He tries not to think about the fact that he's less that a year from having a tiny, vulnerable life dependent on him. He _thinks_ of the child, yes, but more as a bulb that is causing him a great deal of annoyance and further complicating his _already_ complicated life than a soon to be chubby, drooling little thing that will need him to bathe it, feed it, take care of it...

He doesn't think about it. It's easier to regard the life growing inside of him with detached, reluctant and slightly resentful fascination than viewing it as _'my baby'_.

The baby he and Eggsy created _together_.

He doesn't think about Eggsy either, but as far as that goes, he is far less successful in that area.

How could he not? He carries a significant reminder of the young man within him.

He can't escape him.

~

Harry stays in the medical center for a month. A month of vomiting, sleeping, boredom and coming to the conclusion that for a man whose life just changed drastically in about seven different ways, Harry doesn't really have any strong feelings about it.

He supposes it could be shock, though disassociation seems more fitting because despite the fact that he's going to have to live a vastly different life now, Harry doesn't _feel_ anything. Sure, there is some mild sadness over the loss of his eye and some trickles of anxiety about the child, but...for some reason he can't seem to connect.

It feels like a dream, really. A very long and _very_ realistic dream. Like none of it is real.

Until they let him go home.

Then reality rushes up and hits him square in the face.

He stands in his dining room for an absurdly long time, taking in how everything is just as he left it--and there's something odd and sad about that, that he doesn't even have any next of kin of to fuss around his home after he'd basically been _dead_ for 3 fucking months--before his breath quickens and everything bombards him at once. 

And suddenly he's feeling the oppressive heat of Kentucky on his neck, hearing a hateful pastor's shouts echoing in his mind and having quick,  rapid fire, bright, flashing visions of staring down the barrel of a gun.

He makes a grab for the dining table in front of him, but due to his injury, his depth perception is thrown off and he misses it by an embarrassingly large margin, and he stumbles.

And then the panic envelopes him.

He's suddenly hyper aware of his injury, the bandage around his eye socket, the nausea and the fact that he has a _child_ inside him and he can't seem to catch his breath. He _survived_ , but now everything is different and harder than it was before, and he feels like he's just been thrown in the field for the first time. It's pathetic, he knows it is, but he sinks to the floor and guides himself to the wall, leaning against it and gasping for air.

Harry can't be a Kingsman. Not anymore. 

How could he?

He can barely gauge the distance between his hand and the _table_ , much less fire a gun or complete a mission.

He has the foolish, macabre and depressing thought that his life has come to an end, and he didn't even get to _die_.

It was a matter of time before it all went tits up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too sure how I feel about this chapter, but here you go. So sorry I kept you waiting.  
> My tumblr is 808s-and-d1sc0-face if you want to yell at me about this story!


	4. Chapter 4

It takes Harry 45 minutes to pull his sorry arse back together.

45 minutes sitting on the hardwood floor of his dining room.

Not ideal for a 54 year old pregnant man.

But then again, lacking an eye, being pregnant and having a _panic attack_ isn't ideal, so Harry just supposes he'll have to deal with it.

Like everything else.

Just get up, brush himself off and deal with it. 

But that's a bit...difficult when he realizes he can't quite gauge the distance from his seat on the floor against the wall to the expensive, carved wood of the glass cupboard about a foot away from him.

Fuck.

Shit.

He fumbles and flails around, his arms clumsily reaching for _anything,_ still slightly short of breath before he finally manages to grab the edge and haul himself up. It's harder that he would like to admit, and _god_ he's so tired, and he still can't quite breathe right, but it's when he has the inclination to reach for the expensive bottle of whiskey in the cabinet he's holding onto that he--with a sense of dread--remembers.

He can't drink.

He's pregnant, can't see properly, completely alone... _and he can't even drink._

Harry clenches his eyes shut and tries not to scream and throw the nearest wine glass because _honestly_ , this is _bloody, fucking ridiculous._  

He opts to stop thinking and go take a fucking bath. The trek upstairs is tiring, and he has no idea whether to blame his age or the child inside him for that, but either way, by the time he ends up in the large tub, the water fragrant and soothing, Harry feels like he's run a marathon.

It's depressing. He also feels a bit sick.

And--with a sinking feeling mixed with what he can only identify as shame and embarrassment--he realizes, he's _lonely_. The last time he'd been in this house, _his_ house, Eggsy had been with him. He hadn't been _alone_.

He'd spent a very long time alone. Almost all his life. To the point that when Eggsy came along, he knew nothing else.

Sure, he had Merlin and Percival. He had _Kingsman_ , but that warmth of truly having someone...wasn't there until Eggsy Unwin arrived in his life. Winged trainers and all.

He was never really a sociable or relatable child, and he'd grown into a distant but likeable adult. And he'd never minded not being close to people. Harry had never really cared...or rather..he was indifferent. It didn't matter, and he didn't think of it. He figured anyone else would be lonely, but Harry Hart isn't exactly the commonwealth.

How wrong he was.

He _wants_ someone there. He wants _Eggsy_ there.

Harry jerks out of his sad musings when he realizes he's been running his fingers across his abdomen under the warm, lavender scented water. Like he was comforting himself by subconsciously assuring himself that his baby was still there.

And the only thought that goes through Harry's mind is a resounding and firm _'no.'_

He jerks his hand away from his abdomen like it's burned him and then he throws himself out of the tub, his brow furrowed in distress and only takes the time to make sure the water is going down the drain before he flees the bathroom.

He has no idea why he's panicking again, but he's grabbing clothes and drying himself and _covering_ himself. 

He doesn't think about it, he refuses to. He just scrambles to get dressed, to hide his body before he curls up in bed and tries to quiet his mind.

~

_Eggsy kisses him so sweetly, like he wants nothing but to melt into him, and Harry can't help it. His mind empties and he opens his mouth further, feeling more than hearing Eggsy's moan of approval at having more of Harry's mouth to taste._

_They're in various state of undress, Eggsy's hooded jacket is gone, his zipper is down and his shoes are off, Harry's shirt is open and his pants are almost down his legs completely. Eggsy moves him where he wants him to be, and he doesn't protest because god, he wants it, he wants it so badly. He loves the feeling of Eggsy pressing on top of him, pinning him down, the feel of his body so close and and so warm near his. Eggsy wraps an arm around his waist, dragging Harry closer with a possessive noise, and Harry's head swims._

_~_

Harry wakes up hours later to his glasses beeping, his head aching, and his stomach churning. It's _immediately_ too much at once. Stress hits the man like a train, and he sleepily utters an exhausted, "Shit." before he clumsily reaches for his glasses, missing slightly the first time before he adjusts his trajectory and is able to pick them up and place them on his face.

"Hart." he says--because it's not like he can answer to 'Galahad' anymore--trying not to sound like as much as a wreck as he feels like he is in the moment, swaddled in blankets and feeling like his eyelids are made of sandpaper.

How far the mighty and classy have fallen.

_Jesus Fucking Shit._

"Harry." Merlin's voice comes through, and Harry suppresses a groan. The man stares up at the ceiling and listens to his quartermaster's voice on the other end of the line.

"An emergency, I gather?" Harry drawls, his stomach doing flips and _hoping against hope that Merlin isn't about to say what he fears he will-_

"I need you to come in, Harry." Merlin snips, and Harry's heart clenches.

 _Fuck. No_.

"I can't, Merlin." He says quickly.

And he means it. He _can't_.

He's not even Galahad anymore. He's essentially useless, half-blind and harboring some bastard spawn. He can't shoot a gun and his eye is still sporting a bandage, his depth perception is completely off and _Jesus,_ how long until he's too huge to fit into a suit?

What good is he?

"I'm requesting for you to come in, Harry." Merlin insists.

"Then I will politely decline." Harry says smartly.

"Then I _demand_ -"

"Merlin-"

"Harry-"

"I'm not Galahad anymore." Harry replies quickly, exasperation creeping into his voice, "The fuck do you even need me for?"

"Don't be daft." Merlin snaps, "We need an Arthur. You're the most eligible candidate."

Harry's mind reels to a stop.

_Arthur._

_What happened to Arthur?_

"What-"

"Just _get_ here Harry." Merlin demands, patience wearing thin.

"But-" Harry starts, halfheartedly reaching for any reason to stay in his home and not have to go through the exhausting process of  getting dressed, getting in the cab and then revealing himself to everyone at the shop, "I'm..I'm _pregnant_." he says weakly. It's a stupid excuse, and he knows it won't work, but he'll be damned if he doesn't fucking _try_.

Just the thought of having to explain his survival and dealing with the reactions _alone_ is enough to make the color drain from his face and his already testy and nauseous stomach turn up in knots.

He simply doesn't have the _energy_.

"I'm aware." Merlin answers, "And I will not allow you to sink into self loathing. Get up. Get dressed. Come in, Arthur. I have a lot to fill you in on."

_Arthur._

"Merlin-" Harry starts, wincing at how exhausted and pathetic his voice sounds, "I-I can't."

He realizes that he's currently taken up stuttering. He's too tired to feel anything short of a dull shock. Harry Hart never stuttered.

Harry Hart is going through a _lot_ of new things lately.

"Harry." Merlin says evenly, "I am calling for you to come in. You have duties."

Harry sighs and tries not to bite his tongue in two, before he angrily cuts the connection on the glasses without answering Merlin and rolls his sorry arse out of bed.

_Fuck._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!  
> Comments make me happy!


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Hart always liked getting dressed.

Getting dressed meant he had somewhere to be. And having somewhere to be meant that he had a purpose. And his purpose--though aspects of it were grisly--was to ultimately, help people. The world, really.

Sure, occasionally he had to take a life or a few dozen, and it wasn't always glamorous or chic, but all for the greater good and all that, right?

And sure, Harry wonders what would have become of him had he not become a Kingsman. He's thought of that often. He'd come up with various scenarios on how his life could have gone, the happier ones including various military positions. On darker days, after tougher, morally gray missions, where he felt like the villain as opposed to the unsung savior he liked to pretend he was, he entertained the thought that sadly, he probably more likely than not would have become a serial killer.

He was a quiet and likable child, but he overheard the adults. The quiet nattering that he had an unsettling gaze or that his silence was something to be seen as odd, as were his interests in taxidermy and bug collecting. And even into adulthood he'd had a dangerous aura, he's been told. 

 _'Well'_ , Harry had thought, _'They're not wrong._ ' He _could_ kill everyone in the room on any given day if he felt like it.

Anyway, the point is, Harry likes his job. 

He likes his life. 

He likes getting dressed.

And he tries to remember that as he trudges out of bed and slumps to the bathroom to wash his face.

He tries to channel the same gratitude that he feels every now and again for being recruited into Kingsman, and that he didn't have to be a crazed sociopath all on his own. He's among people of similar proclivities.

It isn't until he remembers that _apparently he's bloody Arthur now_ that he throws away the gratitude and allows himself to be viciously annoyed and angry all over again.

He's been shot on the head and dragged from Kentucky back to England only to be told he's pregnant, has one eye, has a higher, more stressful position at work, and has to hide his pregnancy from his protegee, who, ironically is the father of said baby, who he may or may not have feelings for.

The point is, Harry deserves a longer break. 

A week, at least.

A month, preferably.

A year, ideally.

He looks at his face in the mirror, takes in the paleness of his visage and the fact that he looks a little green, and after an unfortunate whiff of his aftershave, it isn't three seconds until he's leaning over the toilet, puking.

 _'Classy, Harry.'_ he thinks as his stomach retches again.

Classy.

~

_'Fucking hell, Harry' Eggsy chokes before sucking a bruise onto the older man's collarbone, as he rocks into him. Harry whimpers and arches into the body above him, gripping the sheets to ground himself because Jesus fucking Christ-the boy is large and hard and heavy and he feels every throb of Eggsy cock inside him and it's both too much and not enough._

_"You're fucking beautiful." Eggsy breathes and Harry's heart pounds as he gasps and Eggsy thrusts into him deeper, and it feels so good he can barely breathe. He feels his face color at the compliment, and Eggsy sees it too because he doesn't stop._

_"Want'd you since I saw you." Eggsy pants, setting a merciless pace that leaves Harry moaning under him like a whore, clutching the sheets harder._

_Eggsy sees that._

_And he doesn't like it._

_The boy slams into him, before roughly detangling Harry's fingers from the silk sheets below, and with a growl of, "No, you hold on to me." Eggsy places Harry's shaking hands around Eggsy biceps, the muscles flexing under his fingers as the boy pounds him into the mattress._

_~_

Getting dressed leaves Harry feeling...odd, to say the least.

He hardly gained any weight, seeing as he's only about 3 months along, but he feels that it fits a bit different and he's not quite sure whether it's in his head or not.

He hasn't been able to be physically active for a while, and while a part of him is itching to get back to work (and to the gym), another--larger, and more vocal--part of him wants to curl back up in bed, say 'fuck it all' and forget everything.

He doesn't, in the end.

He looks at himself one last time and takes in the depressed looking man in the crisp gray suit with the sterile white bandage over his eye socket, and decides to be a fucking adult and get his sorry arse in a cab.

So he does.

The cab driver's confused eyes widen when he catches sight of him, and Harry wonders why Merlin would send a Kingsman cab when he had no idea if Harry would even bother to listen to his orders. And clearly the poor man had not been alerted to Harry current status as 'alive' or he would not be scrambling out of the cab and opening the door for him with a flushed face and exclamations of _'Very_ glad to see you, sir.'

Harry nods and smiles, his brain failing to come up with anything halfway articulate for the sudden social contact that has been thrust his way and as he settles down in the cab his face burns and he feels annoyance creep up his throat.

 _This_ is why he needed more time. The entire day is destined to be full of this. Exclamations and _hugging_ and explaining with words Harry doesn't have at the moment.

He simply doesn't have the strength.

"To the shop please." he says to the driver, the young man's earnest and happy face looking at him questioningly in the rear view mirror. The young man nods happily and they set off.

Harry closes his eye and tries not to panic.

He opens his eye right as they pull up in front of the shop, and while the feeling of dread doesn't go away, the overwhelming surge of the comfort and the word _'home'_ makes it's way into his head and it lessens, if only for a moment.

He thanks his driver and gets out of the cab, faced with the crisp gold KINGSMAN lettering on the glass that is displaying several dinner jackets in the window.

He almost feels like himself for a moment.

He stares at it, just taking it and reveling in some emotional stability before he heads inside.

It just as he remembers it, down to the tinkle of the bell that rings when the front door closes.

The man at the counter, however, is not as he remembers.

What used to be an older man, was now replaced with handsome black young man, not much older than Eggsy but holding a quiet maturity that made him look not out of place in the tailor shop. The man looks up as Harry enters, and smiles serenely.

"Arthur." he says, his voice light and even, "Merlin is waiting for you in his office."

"Thank you." Harry says with a nod, walking past and entering the fitting room before pulling the knob and descending.

After that it's automatic. Getting to the bullet train, passing the vehicle garage. 

Then comes the hard part. He doesn't know where everyone is, and if he doesn't know where everyone is, he can't be certain he won't run into anyone he doesn't want to see just yet.

Eggsy.

So he opens the door and passes the bunks for the new trainees and looks around a corner and when he finds that it's clear, he walks quickly and enters Merlin's office with an irritated, "Well, you've woken me up and insisted I get down here so here I am you demanding-"

And as he's about to finish his sentence--turning into the room and closing the door as quickly as he can to avoid being seen--he realizes that the quartermaster is not alone in the room. Sitting across from Merlin who is seated at his screen station, is Roxy.

Lancelot.

Looking at him wide eyed and pale as if she'd seen a ghost. 

Merlin is wearing the type of grin that Harry will have to pay him back for later.

Harry is frozen.

It all happens at once.

Roxy breathes, "You're alive."

Merlin gives a short, "Welcome, Arthur."

And Harry blanches.

He'd expected to be seen at some point today, but certainly not this quickly, and not by someone other than Merlin.

" _You're alive?!_ " Roxy says again, anger creeping into her voice.

"Apparently, yes." Merlin says smartly, when Harry is silent.

"You've been alive this entire time," Roxy starts, her voice venomous as she rises from her chair, all relaxed vibe from the room gone as she slowly walks up to Harry, her fists clenched as she seethes, "And you didn't tell him?!"

"I-" Harry starts dumbly before he's cut off by an enraged hiss.

"He was a _mess_." Roxy seethes, "A fucking mess, after he thought you died. And you've been alive this entire time?! How could you-!"

"Well, I haven't exactly been having the time of my life." Harry says coldly, and he sees her falter a bit in her anger, taking in the eye-patch and the fact that he looks a bit sick.

Roxy takes a step back, her face softening a bit, "I'm...sorry." she says hesitantly after a moment, "I reacted too quickly, I just-he was a _mess,_ Harry. Once it was all said and done. He thought he'd lost you."

"Well, I thought I'd lost me too." Harry says, still a bit testy. Because yes, Eggsy may be hurting but at least the boy has both eyes.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Some sympathy would be nice. At least a bit.

"I'm sorry." Roxy says again, "I do hope you're doing alright." Her voice is amicable, though still a bit clipped, and her smile is back and the tension seeps out of Harry rather suddenly.

"I'm...alive." Harry replies, because while he might not necessarily be _okay_ , he's breathing. And he guesses that's something, at least.

Roxy nods in understanding and he's grateful he doesn't have to explain. The young woman is sharp. 

"Well, Lancelot," Merlin says, interjecting, "I must have those mission reports by tomorrow. I would like to have a talk with Arthur, privately, if you please."

Roxy nods and extends a hand to Harry, "Congrats on being crowned Arthur, by the way." she says, a glint in her eye, "You're in charge of all of us now."

Harry takes her hand and shakes it, "Well, I suppose in _theory_ , but Merlin still has everyone's genitals on a platter, really." He says, mischievously.

The young woman laughs and Merlin rolls his eyes and Roxy turns to leave.

"Lancelot," Merlin says, before she reaches the door, "Your new-found knowledge of Arthur's presence in the land of the living is to be kept classified. You are not to tell Galahad. Understood?"

Roxy pauses and a deeply unhappy looks crosses her face before she nods an affirmative, and leaves, the door clicking shut. 

Harry turns back to Merlin.

"Sit down, Arthur. We have a lot to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO UPDATES IN ONE DAY???? *GASSSP*  
> Comments make me happy!


	6. Chapter 6

"So it's all gone to shit then." Harry says, after a stunned silence when Merlin has finished catching him up on the past few months.

"Pretty much." Merlin replies, not missing a beat.

Harry is silent for a moment, his mind working through what Merlin has told him, before he looks up and says, "And I have to clean it up."

"As much as you can, yes Arthur."

"Arthur." Harry mutters reluctantly, the name doesn't suit him, he finds. It hangs off of him like an ill-fitting dinner jacket.

_Arthur._

Well, he can't do any worse than his predecessor. He knew Arthur was a snobby, classist pile of shit, but to betray the world? To agree with Valentine's plan? To try and kill Eggsy?

Insanity. The man deserved death.

Harry pushes the thought from his mind (he might as well get used to how Kingsman will be now, he cannot go back to the past, certainly not after this), and looks at Merlin.

"I suppose I should get to work then."

~

He has an office now.

It's _horrid_.

All these years living an exciting and dangerous life and yet he _still_ couldn't seem to outrun the dreary fate of sitting behind a desk. The office is large, but bare, the large desk clear and formidable. Harry looks at it for a second before his dread comes back to hit him in waves.

He's going to grow old and _die_ behind a desk, like the Arthur before him.

(Hopefully minus the crimes against humanity, betrayal and attempted murder.)

But it'd be _wretched_. Doing nothing but filing paperwork and reveling in how he _used_ to be. When he could actually participate in his spy agency as opposed to being answered to and stashed away like an old relic. He never _wanted_ to be Arthur. He wanted to be _Galahad._ He wanted to fight and live as dangerously as possible. He wanted to shoot guns and save people who deserved it. Help people who needed him.

He wanted to be a knight. Not the bloody _king_.

Not sit behind a desk, vet new trainees and wear a path in the carpet from walking from the dining room to his office every day.

Jesus.

He needs to be _himself_ again. But he has no idea how to go about that. What can he possibly do?

And as soon as that thought enters his head, Harry's mind colors red with anger. He feels his face twist slightly and his fists clench in rage.

Because for the love of _God-_

He can do as he pleases. He doesn't have to listen to _anybody_. Who can stop him, really? Harry is a Kingsman agent for a reason, and if he feels like doing something and chucking the rules out the _bloody fucking window_ he'll do it.

He needs a mission. Something difficult, something that will make him feel like _himself_ again. He refuses to sit around complaining. It's supremely unproductive and will get him nowhere.

He needs a plan. A _good_ one. A _foolproof_ one and more importantly -- a _Merlin-proof_ one.

Harry Hart has always been fond of doing things he most certainly _should not_ be doing, when he was a child it was something along the lines of sneaking snakes into the house without his mother finding out, but now it's along the lines of sneaking into the recent archives in the Kingsman database, selecting a level red task, sneaking on a jet and fucking off to someplace with some blessed gunfire and explosions--

while three months up the duff.

So as he settles behind the huge, horrible oak thing and tries to ignore the fact that the chair isn't conducive to his new bodily developments--and that he'll need one of those embarrassing pregnancy chairs very soon--and he tries to think of what the _old_ Harry would do. How would he go about it?

(And when did he start thinking of himself in the past tense? Surely he's the same person? Actually, he's not so sure.)

He comes up with an answer he is satisfied with, and spends a few minutes thinking about how he will execute his plan without Merlin's knowledge and when he devises a scheme that seems somewhat do-able, he rises from his chair (with some difficulty, but he's buzzing with the invigoration of a con and he won't think about it, lest he upset himself) and walks to the door before peeking out.

The hall is empty.

He moves.

~

Eggsy doesn't think about it.

Any of it.

Valentine's plan. Dean. His father. The horrid state of the world after V-day.

_Harry._

He's moved on.  It's all about the future.

It's not that he wants to forget, it's simply that it's too much to comfortably _remember_.

Some of it too painful. 

That doesn't mean he doesn't notice the empty feeling in his chest (and the fact that he's gotten oddly used to it worryingly quickly), or the fact that he isn't nearly as bright eyed as he was before the universe went to shit and people ended up getting shot in the head _(important people, people he adored, people he-)_ \--killing men and seeing men killed will do that to you, he supposes--but he likes to think that's its more maturity and less 'the-world-on-his-shoulders'.

He knows he's fucking lying to himself, but he can't seem to find it in himself give a damn.

Kingsman has been...quiet after the disaster with Valentine's sim cards.

He has no idea why, or what they're supposed to be doing , but it feels a lot like they're waiting for _something._

Something big.

He hasn't the slightest fucking clue, but he can usually feel the turn of the tides, headed for danger--living in an abusive household will do that, allow one to gauge the temperature of the room lightening fast and react accordingly--and within the halls of Kingsman HQ, shit is about to hit the fan.

A few months ago he would have been curious and poking at Merlin until the man puffed up in annoyance liked the great fluffy cat he was in an attempt to get information, but now he....doesn't care.

He sees the looks Roxy gives him, and he regrets totally freaking out on her like a nut job all those weeks ago, when Harry's death was fresh and he finally stopped to process it. 

Even the feeling of victory at having defeated Valentine and foiled his plan didn't stop the sudden flow of emotion and sadness at the loss of one Harry Hart.

 _Harry,_ whom he made love to and held and kissed and-

He realized far too late, when he was sobbing like a child and Roxy held him, hushing him like he was some fucking _baby_ \--that everything moved so quick that he barely had time to register it. Harry died and then everything was in technicolor--horribly bright, fast and dizzying--moving so fast and suddenly Eggsy was taking down guards in droves and fighting Valentine's assistant.

Gazelle.

He had the odd that feeling that had she survived the battle, he could have convinced her to join Kingsman. She would have been a great addition.

He loves the place and they've given him a shot at an amazing life (granted he didn't die any time soon, which would he tricky) but they really needed a few more different kinds of people.

The upper-class, all white, Oxford-educated shit they had going on would drive him mad one day, he's sure.

He's not _ungrateful_ , he's just smart enough to know that saving the world and putting on a suit doesn't suddenly mean he fits in with people who have always had money and went to the best schools while all he had was a stepdad who beat the shit out of him, a mom who relied on him for far too much far too early, and a ton of failed endeavors and hobbies he'd forgotten. That, along with a thick, lower-class accent.

He misses Jamal and Ryan.

Anyway, the point is, Eggsy doesn't think about Harry Hart.

But when he sees Roxy in the shooting range that day--her hand shaking as she holds her silver emblazoned .45 glock--he wonders why she looks at him and looks like she's swallowed a lemon.

~

Harry makes it to the storage room.

It's a big place, not lavishly decorated like the rest of the Kingsman manor, but instead looks a bit more like the sterile room they give the trainees to bunk in.

The place holds an excess of everything they need, and everything used to restock the tailor shop and it's hidden armories in the fitting rooms. Extra shotgun rounds, fabric for shoes along with the bulletproof fabric for suits, racks upon racks of umbrellas of various versions and spanning several time periods.

Long ago, Harry liked to come in here just to see the older, less reliable versions of the gadgets he knew so well. He'd marveled at how the gadgets improved over time, and often spent hours of his free time just roaming the aisles and discovering that _no, the older Kingsman umbrella used in the 90's didn't have the stun feature_ , or that _yes, there was indeed a telephone in the shoes from the 1950's and Gawain hadn't been trying to trick him when he said so._

Harry isn't there to browse or sate his curiously though. Not today.

He looks at the coded labels on each metal crate.

He'd been trained to memorize the ID badges for each one perfectly and automatically know the content inside each one as plainly as if someone had simply wrote _'Spare Umbrella Handles'_  on the crates as opposed to 'ID#K624378665GGh2'

Harry stops when he sees the ID #K99865287YYhu7.

_Laptops._

He opens the large container and quickly takes one out, the black, sleek computer a solid weight in his hands. Harry decides to just do his work right then and there, refusing to run the risk of being discovered if he left the room, used the laptop and then brought it back. Besides, he's sure there's a computer Merlin is planning to hook up in his office anyway, and he doesn't need to questions from the quartermaster as to why he has an extra Kingsman laptop laying about.

Best to do it here then.

He opens it and places it on top of another crate, ticking away at the keys and logging into the database. It's his personal password, and he's never given it to anyone--not even Merlin--and while he's never had a proper excuse before, he's thankful he didn't because Harry doesn't need anyone being privy to the fact that he's downloading and changing pending mission files, outlines and parameters.

Harry ticks through each one, until he comes to a hostage rescue mission that Percival was going to be assigned to. It's in Guyana, where apparently a very kind humanitarian had gone missing and Harry quickly uses his new privileges as Arthur (along with the new admin code and user info that Merlin gave him just before he finished briefing Harry on what went down after his 'church incident') to change the primary agent for the mission from Percival to Arthur.

He's sure the man won't mind.

Anyway, he's sure Percival could use the break, and Harry has to leave for the jet in about an hour. According to the documents, he's meant to arrive in Guyana in the morning.

Finally, he has a _purpose_ again. Something to _do_. Something to look _forward_ to.

Something to get his mind off of the shambled mess his life has become. He also has the fleeting thought that he also has the opportunity to show that he can still do what he did before. He can still be useful, and not just for signing off on documents and holding meetings. He can still do everything he did before, and he intends to fucking _prove it._ Even if it kills him.

He sends all the mission files and objectives to his glasses, the information unfolding before his eyes.

The he logs off and places the laptop back into the crate, snapping it closed and quickly heading out of the room.

He tries not to feel like a child doing something very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long!  
> And to show how sorry I am, I present you with [ this fanmix I made for Harry Hart on 8 tracks!](https://8tracks.com/discoface/you-re-a-miracle)  
> I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but Harry should be in some danger in the next one, and guess who has to come to the rescue?  
> Comments make me happy!


	7. Chapter 7

Eggy is used to vague mission perameters.

But this? This is weird.

The fact that he was woken up at 3am by a very cross and snippy Merlin doesn't help, but he's an agent for a reason now, and he tries to take it all in stride. He does what he's told, but that doesn't change the fact that it's fucking _weird_. He hasn't been briefed for anything, and when he'd been placed on the plane--clad in his usual suit--the documents he'd looked at in the lenses of his glasses confirmed what Merlin had told him. 

A rescue mission.

That in and of itself isn't the weird part. The weird part was that the target's name was redacted. 

How the fuck was he supposed to rescue someone if he had no idea who it was?

Merlin had narrowed his eyes, annoyance and fury concealed in a bland expression and told him he'd know when he saw them.

Whatever the fuck that means.

So now Eggsy is sitting on a small private jet to Guyana, trying not to fall asleep. 

Whoever the hell he's been dragged out of bed to rescue had better be grateful.

He closes his eyes and tries to get a few hours of sleep before he arrives.

He can't help anyone if he's sleep deprived. He'll be useless to everyone.

~

Merlin is going to kill Harry Hart.

Okay, maybe he won't kill him (that would defeat the purpose of sending Galahad to save him in the first place) but he's definitely going to rip him a new one.

He knew Harry was reckless, he'd been handling his missions for years when he was Galahad...

But this?

This is madness.

The initial anger upon discovering what Harry had done had worn off and now gave way to mind-splitting concern and fear for the agent.

Something is wrong with Harry Hart.

Merlin isn't naive enough to think that the man would be completely fine--his world has been turned completely on its head, not to mention the definite trauma that manifests when one gets injured in the drastic and brutal fashion that Harry had been--but he hadn't expected such a careless and dangerous act from someone as practical and level-headed as one Harry Hart.

The quartermaster realizes that he probably should have known better. He should have submitted the man for some psych evaluations and therapy. _Something_.

Merlin wouldn't openly admit it in an emotional or sappy way, but he cares for his agents. Every single one. They're his responsibility and he takes it extremely seriously.

He considers Harry a friend.

And Merlin has very few friends to begin with. He can't lose more.

The point is, that while he _is_ pissed with Harry and his recklessly dangerous behavior, he is rather disappointed in himself. He was so insistent on replacing Arthur and getting Kingsman up and running again that he didn't fully consider the risk of taking a traumatized man that placed his entire worth in his ability to fire a gun and putting him behind a desk.

Jesus, Harry probably thought we was going to rot behind a desk for the rest of his life.

By the time Merlin had caught on to where Harry had disappeared to and viewed the changed mission documents, the man was long gone.

What was he thinking? He's _pregnant_.

Idiot.

He's going to tear Harry Hart a new one. Several new ones. But first he has to get the man back safely.

He decides to send Eggsy.

The decision is an easy one.

If there's one person Harry needs to see, it's Eggsy Unwin.

Maybe that will slap some sense back into him.

Merlin takes a sip of his much needed tea, and hopes that he hasn't crossed line. But he glances at the changed mission file, edited with Arthur's administrative password, and decides that Harry _needs_ a bit of a rude awakening.

He's going to give Merlin a heart attack one of these days.

~

By the time the plane lands, Eggsy is well rested but supremely annoyed.

The flight was long, and his suit--though ideal for fighting in and very sharp and stylish--was not very comfortable. No matter how posh the jet, he's learned, if you're in it for 9 hours, you're bound to be uncomfortable no matter what.

And if Eggsy is feeling anything right now, it's discomfort. And mild anger.

The mild anger comes from the fact that he still doesn't know all the details of what the _hell_ he's doing in Georgetown, Guyana in the first place.

The plane settles on the runway, powering down and when the door opens, Eggsy sees three people--natives of the country-- all women, dressed in sharp pinstripe suits, one in black, one in silver and one in red.

It takes him a few seconds to realize they're triplets.

"Galahad, I assume?" the woman in red asks, smiling politely and extending a hand when Eggsy makes it down the stairs and stands before them.

These women wear their suits with the same grace and ease that they wear their dark brown skin and curly black hair, and he's so stunned by their beauty that it takes him a few minutes for him to realize that one of them has spoken.

His brain comes back online a few seconds later and he stutters a quick, "Yes." and shakes the woman's outstretched hand.

She smirks and shakes his hand, the others smiling politely at him and shaking his hand in greeting.

"I'm agent Mittelholzer," she says, gesturing to herself with a flourish, "This is Carter," she says gesturing to the woman in silver, "and this is Braithwaite." she finishes, pointing to the one clad in black.   


"Your quartermaster, Merlin, contacted us a few hours about an agent of yours that needs some assistance?" Carter asks, an eyebrow raised in question.

"I suppose so, though I'm not sure which one, exactly.It's classified, so I've been told." Eggsy replies. He also is actively working on keeping his accent in check. It hasn't been required, but if he's going to be meeting other Kingsman agents, he wants to at least sound like he belongs with them.

He can't go around sounding like a fucking chav, can he?

Also, something about these women makes him want to show them he's on their level too. He felt similarly with Harry, the ever present need to prove he was good enough. That he fit.

The need to impress. 

It's not a pressing need, just an inclination to stand up a little straighter, to speak a little more proper and hold his head a little higher.

So when Braithwaite nods and says, "Ah, well. We have been tasked with assisting you.", Eggsy smiles and turns on the charm.

"Then I suppose my target and I are in very capable hands." he grins, and the agents smile and escort him down the hallway to the central headquarters of the Kingsman's Guyanese division.

It's strikingly similar to theirs, despite the art being different, and Eggsy finds himself feeling strangely at home here.

"We will be taking you to see our quartermaster Persaud." Carter says, "She will quickly give us the parameters and then we will be deployed in the field shortly after."

Eggsy nods, "May I ask how we were alerted to the problem? My handler hasn't told me much."

He has the fleeting thought that Ryan and Jamal would laugh at him if they heard his clearly fake posh accent and pronunciation.

"One of our most prominant humanitarians has been kidnapped for ransom. We arent completely sure by whom, he's been taken to an area that we don't often have eyes in, seeing as power is scarce there. Our agents haven't been sent into the field yet, so we knew he wasn't one of ours. Your quartermaster made contact with Persaud and explained the situation." she says,"Your agent seems to have gotten close, but never made contact with your handler. A short time later, we got news of shots fired in the area. Thus the urgency of your arrival. It's custom to have a Kingsman agent from the distressed agent's home division aid in the rescue attempt with the assistance of agents of the country in question, provided there is enough time to arrange such plans."

"But if this happened hours ago, why bother flying me here? Why not just go and aid the agent instead of waiting?" Eggsy asks.

"Our jobs are precarious at best," she answers, "if an agent is in the field and we have lost contact, barging into a hot zone isn't recommended or wise. They might have the situation under control and having another variable interfere could ruin the controlled environment an agent has under control, especially if we are not completely sure they are in danger in the first place."

"But you're here now, and we haven't had word from your agent since the report of gunfire, so we have made the descision to enter, assess the situation and extract your agent and our target if possible." Mittelholzer adds.

Eggsy nods, his head swimming with the information.

"Don't worry," Braithwaite says, seeing his look, "soon all these international policies will be second nature to you."

He guesses he looks slightly surprised by overwhelmed because she smiles and says, "New Kingsman agents always are a bit overwhelmed when visiting a new division. The red tape of it all."

"My graduation to the role of Galahad was sudden." Eggsy says as they turn a corner, nearing a door at the end of the hall, "I didn't have too much time to be briefed on the international rules and such."

"Understandable. Its not exactly covered in training." Carter says, "If certain candidates don't get the job, the less they know about the foreign policy the better."

They enter through a door, and are greeted by a woman sitting in front of four computer screens, her hair up and away from her face.

"Ah, you're all here." she says, turning around, "Welcome, Galahad. Let's get your agent back, we don't have any more time to waste."

She stands, and shakes his hand quickly, "Your weapons have been loaded into the car. We will take you all as close to the edge of Georgetown as we can, but no further. The car will meet you at the end of hangar number five. I will guide you, but the signal in that area regularly fizzles out, so in the event that I cannot communicate with you, get creative. Be safe, and good luck."  


The next thing Eggsy knows he's in an unmarked SUV, heading straight towards Harry Hart.

He just isn't aware of it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I typed this on an iPad in Starbucks lol. Anyway, the Guyanese Kingsman agents are named after famous Guyanese authors and poets. I also just wanted to write some Kingsman agents from my home country. And I subconsciously made them all ladies lol.
> 
> Hooray for black lady Kingsman!!!!
> 
> Comments make me happy!!


	8. Chapter 8

Harry has had some horrible plans in his lifetime.

Sometimes it was unavoidable, sometimes during a mission he has very little choice, and even when he has a choice, or many, none of them are necessarily ideal. 

That's just a part of the job.

But sometimes, he has better options, but still fucks up royally and ends up in a completely _shit_ situation.

This one of those times.

He's cornered in a small room, and he's bleeding from a run in with some thug wielding a knife, his gun only has about two rounds left in it, he has no contact with anyone who can provide backup, and his umbrella is damaged and bordering on useless. He's also completely exhausted and on the verge of passing out.

So basically it's just the average Tuesday.

He'd found the kidnapped man rather easily, he'd even gotten him out of the dirty, small room he'd been locked in, only having to take down the two armed guards at the door, his stealth and the dark keeping him shielded from sight.

Until the noise alerted more thugs of the fact that their captive was being aided in his escape.

Harry thinks fast, leading the frightened man to one of the many abandoned buildings in the deserted area (which Harry supposes is why it was chosen to hold an important captive, seeing as no one seems to live there) and locks him into a room while Harry takes out as many of the masked men as possible before returning for him to escort him to safety. 

At least, that _had_ been the plan, but there turned out to be more of them than he anticipated, and while Harry isn't nearly as out of practice as he thought he was, he still misses more shots than he ever has because he can't seem to aim correctly, and his stomach roils every other time he makes a sharp movement, and it distracts him.

He's off his game.

And now they know where he is, and he's almost out of bullets and losing quite a bit of blood, having run into an enemy who got too close and was able to slice him across the abdomen.

The rest of it went to shit because he panicked.

As soon as the knife dug in, his mind flashed to thoughts of the baby, and the sudden surge of fear and protectiveness had surprised him. He blinks and finds he's suddenly locked himself into a room in an abandoned building also, in an attempt to regroup, gather his thoughts and find a way out of this.

Thats when it hits him that he hasn't thought this through _at all_.

One could argue that the realization came too late, and now he's in a dark room, his stomach slashed, his unborn child in danger, and criminals about to break down the door.

His child might _die_ just because he was having a crisis and refused to think it through reasonably, and he's completely out of ideas.

He presses a shaking hand to his bleeding middle, hissing at the pain and sting of his fingers coming in contact with the ripped flesh. It's not deep, but it's worrying, and if this baby dies, this innocent little life, it's _his_ fault. 

He doesn't necessarily want a baby per se, but this one is his whether he likes it or not.

His and Eggsy's.

And it hits him that he not only put his own child in danger, but Eggsy's also, and he feels even more ashamed and frustrated with himself.

He and that young man created this. This little flicker of a _life_ , and he'd rushed into danger and might have destroyed it.

All in some attempt to regain what he thought he lost.

Fucking ridiculous.

His hand comes away from his middle drenched in blood.

The terror nearly chokes him.

It _wasn't_ the plan. A baby was never the plan, but...

Was it really the worst thing?

He suddenly doesn't think so. He _may_ have overreacted. He isn't too surprised, he'd always had a flair for the dramatic.

The problem is, his overreaction has lead him here, and he has to find a way out by himself or risk bleeding out in some abandoned building in an evacuated and deserted part of a third world country.

The banging at the door continues, and he's thankful that the door has held long enough for him to gather his thoughts, even if they aren't very useful in terms of getting him out of here.

He needs to get a hospital. He needs bandages and an ultrasound. 

He could also use a few more rounds in his gun and some backup.

Fuck.

Harry has no idea what he was thinking. This isn't like him at _all_. He would _never_ do this. He's had his reckless moments (which Merlin has never failed to point out) but he's never _purposefully_ put himself in danger on such a large scale as this. He's never gone into something so _ill prepared_. His attempt to be himself again has backfired completely, and now hes even farther from himself than he thought he was before. 

And if they _both_ don't die, his baby might.

The realization that he's scared isn't as surprising as thinks it ought to be. But it invades his body, seizing his muscles and making his stomach churn. 

His vision swims, and he can't hear the banging anymore, only dull sounds and he stumbles before he presses his side into the wall, trying to say upright.

If he sits down, he accepts defeat, and if Harry Hart is going to die, he aims to struggle till the end.

He won't make it easy for them.

But he still feels like he's going to fucking puke.

He can only faintly hear the commotion outside the door, but he doesn't have the strength or willpower to wonder when the banging stopped before the door bangs open and a dark skinned woman in a red suit makes an appearance, followed by an identical woman in black, then one in silver.

His first fleeting thought is that he's hallucinating and seeing triple, but when one--the woman in silver--gently grabs his arm to steady him, the fact that he can feel the warmth of her hand holding him steady confirms that she's _real_.

They're _all_ real.

She says something to him--the woman supporting half of his weight while the other two yell to someone just outside the door--but he can't quite make it out.

He tries to speak, to politely ask her to repeat her question and thank her for keeping him upright, but even he can hear it comes out being a garbled mess.

The world blurs slightly, and he doesn't quite see another figure enter the room until he hears a sharp intake of breath and a voice.

A familiar voice. One that he's both longed and dreaded hearing for so long.

"'Arry?" 

The world sharpens. He wants to both ignore the young man--succumb to the darkness starting to cloud his vision--and use every ounce of his energy to stay awake as long as possible and explain.

He has so much he needs to say.

He looks up at the call of his name, the voice attached to it holding a mixture of disbelief, anger, hurt and hysteria. Harry's heart clenches at the shreds of relief woven in.

And the look on that face makes him want to fall into those arm just he did that night they spent together. 

Eggsy's suit is ripped in a few places, he has a minor cut on his lower lip, but it's his expression that looks the most wounded and wrecked.

He looks _young_. 

"How-?" the boy starts, his arms dropping to his sides in defeat.

He doesn't finish the sentence, but they both know what he means to say. The room is silent, the women looking between them with questions in their eyes.

He finds himself with the irrational desire of wanting to protect them from the extremely complicated and messed up situation they've stumbled into.

Harry wants to explain, he does, but when he opens his mouth he chokes, and a warm gush of blood bubbles up in place of words.

Frustration creeps into his chest because for fuck's sake, he needs to _explain_ -

Harry promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Two updates!!   
> Comments make me happy!!  
> Also my tumblr is 808s-and-d1sco-face if you want to talk to meee


	9. Chapter 9

A lot like when he was being treated and transferred back to London from Kentucky, Harry Hart regains consciousness several times on the way to the hospital. At least, that's where he assumes he's going when he wakes up in the back seat of what he assumes is a car (or some sort of transport vehicle, he can't tell which, he's a bit busy bleeding out at the moment to deduce the specifics of it all), the three female agents yelling over his body. The world shows up in blurry blobs and bits of echoing, booming sound, sometimes too loud and the sound is fuzzy at the edges, a bit garbled and not at all clear, but he catches a few words, snippets of sentences, a quick flash of curly hair. He realizes they're trying to stop the bleeding from his stomach, the woman in black pressing her jacket into his middle, her face frantic as he feels another warm gush of blood work it's way up his asophogus. 

The pain is excruciating, but the real panic sets in when his sluggish mind catches up with the fact that he can't hear Eggsy.

Where is he? Has he left him? Was he ever even there, or was Harry just hallucinating? A  symptom of blood loss, perhaps?

The panic intesifies, and he feels his lungs start to spasm, and he can only loosely grasp the fact that he is in the throes of a panic attack before he passes out again.

The darkness is welcoming, warm and peacefully quiet.

~

Eggsy can't speak.

He tries, and he tries to help the three agents get Harry to the car, and he tries to be helpful and mature, but the boy's body locks up and he can only move far enough to the left for his companions to get the man out of the room and into the car.

Harry Hart.

He's alive.

He has no idea how, and the car ride is chaotic, stressful and disorienting, and he can't seem to organize or pick through his thoughts.

He guesses it's shock.

And along the way Eggsy realizes that Merlin _knew_. He knew Harry wasn't dead, and he let Eggsy walk around believing that the man who'd done so much for him, the man he'd fucking developed _feelings_ for--feelings he is still hesitant to analyze--was alive this entire time. The man he'd made love to, the man who saw his potential and gave him an opportunity he'd never have been given had he not come across him.

He would call Merlin and make a fucking scene if he could move.

Instead he sits stiffly in the front seat of a speeding SUV and listens to the sounds of Harry Hart being saved. 

~

Harry Hart is getting far too used to waking up in hospitals.

Hes just getting _bored_ of it now.

So when he opens his eyes to white ceilings and too bright lights (why do they always have the bloody lights so bright? No one wants to fucking be blinded upon waking in a hospital room, he thinks sourly) he suppresses a groan and moves to press the call button attached to his index finger.

That's when his mind clears enough to see Eggsy sitting in the seat next to his bed. The boy looks at him, and the silence in the room is suffocating, and they don't stop staring at each other even as a nurse comes in and checks his vitals, asks how he's doing (she gets a distracted and half-assed answer), and then leaves to get the doctor.

Harry can't stop his face from coloring. He expected his reunion with Eggsy to start with him sailing through a doorway, looking suave, prim and proper as always, and end with Eggsy kissing him, completely relieved he was alive.

He stopped believing in fairy-tales when he was three, but he let himself dream. He might as well have this one thing. Everything else is currently fucked.

But instead of his perfect scenario, he ends up in a hospital bed, an eye missing and his stomach slashed open, and he's absolutely sure he looks a mess. All while Eggsy sits there next to him, his face tired and blank, but his suit crisp and unruffled.

Well at least _one_ of them is presentable.

They stare at each other, and Harry's heart is in his mouth, but it isn't until the wound on his abdomen throbs that he remembers.

He was injured there.

_The baby._

What if-?

He feels his eyes widen, and his breath stutters.

Careless.

_Careless._

Careless.

_Juvenile._

_Fucking reckless._

He's aware he's panicking, and he barely registers Eggsy's presence because he's so preoccupied with mentally _kicking_ himself for reacting like a fucking spoiled child. He put himself and his child in danger, and all because he didn't want to sit at a desk.

Idiotic.

What had this baby done to deserve a parent who was so bloody self-destructive?

He struggles to sit up, and Eggsy shifts next to him and Harry only gets to place one hand over his middle before he registers the weight of Eggsy's hand on his shoulders pushing him back down with a firm, "'Arry, for fuck's sake, keep still or you'll rip out your stitches, yeah?"

Maybe it's the fact that he's exhausted, maybe its the fact that he hears Eggsy's voice in the first time in forever, but Harry actually listens and lets himself be pushed back, his head hitting his pillow and his eyes on Eggsy's face.

He's forcing his expression into some faux nonchalance and Harry can see right through it, but his boy looks just as beautiful as ever. He looks tired, and like he's a word away from snapping and screaming at him, and he can't imagine the conversation they're going to have will be very pretty or heartwarming, but he can't help but look at the younger man and be totally enamored. However, Eggsy couldn't look _less_ happy to see him, the lines of his shoulders tense and his eyes cold.

He supposes he deserves it.

Harry is an idiot. A grand old fool. How could he let these feelings happen?

He has the thought that if the baby survives--and if their baby looks even one eighth and gorgeous as Eggsy is--he'd be happy. He almost slips up and says so, his mouth opening but he's saved from making a stupid mistake when the doctor walks in. The painkillers they have him on are making him sloppy.

"Mr. Hart." he says, smiling wide, "I'm happy to say that after a few weeks of bed rest, you'll be fine. The wound on your stomach was fairly shallow, but we stitched it only because it was a bit wide, but it will heal up nicely. However, your condition is _very_ delicate so if you could refrain from any more strenuous activity--"

"Condition?" Eggsy deadpans, his eyes never leaving Harry and his eyes narrowing, and Harry feels his face go white.

"Ah, yes. Which means bed rest, Mr. Hart. No more daredevil stunts, alright? Wouldn't want any complications. The process will be as smooth as possible provided the proper medical help is provided and if you take it easy. You will be able to leave in about two days, but we want to do some tests and prescribe you some vitamins just to make sure everything is okay." the doctor smiles, completely oblivious to the fact that Eggsy is suspiciously looking between them and Harry is silently having a heart attack, "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you doctor." he says quickly, recovering in record time, "I'd like to get some rest now, if that's fine." he finishes, staring pointedly at the man. The doctor smiles and nods, before hanging his chart at the end of his bed, and walking out of the room.

They're silent, and Harry leans back and tries to ignore the heavy silence in the room.

"What was he talkin' about 'Arry." Eggsy says, and it's not a question, it's a statement. A demand.

Harry shifts, "Very nice to see you too, Eggsy." he says, and he sounds tired even to his own ears. But honestly, some consideration would be fucking appreciated. He's the injured one in a hospital bed, for fucks sake.

Eggsy's jaw tenses, and he leans froward, "You," he hisses, and he sounds angrier than Harry has ever heard him, even when they were arguing before he left for the church, "you, fuckin' ditched me. Let me think you were dead, so don't try to change the subject, bruv. How could you do that? After everything, _really_ 'Arry? You just up and disappear? Where were you when I--"

"Ah, yes. Of course, because I greatly  _enjoyed_ being shot in the face. It was a _joy_ , really. I'm really looking forward to doing it again. I'm also _thrilled_ by my limited vision, bloody fucking lack of depth perception, and the fact that I'm stuck hearing about how awful I am for being gone so long because no one seems to recognize _that it's not like I was on bloody fucking holiday._ " he snaps, fists clenching.

He's exhausted and this conversation isn't helping in the least. And why does everyone think that he was away because he _wanted_ to be away, or that he was gone just to hurt Eggsy?

_Fucking hell._

He turns away from the boy, and closes his eyes. He can't sleep, and he hears Eggsy shifting in his seat.

"I'm sorry." he hears the boy say eventually. He still doesn't look at him. He's being petty, he knows, but he decides that if there's any time for him to act like a petulant child it's when he's pregnant and his life is going to complete shit, so he doesn't even acknowledge when Eggsy puts a hand on his shoulder, or when he says, "'Arry, really. I'm sorry. I just-it's a shock, is all, yeah?"

Harry is silent.

"I just-Merlin didn't tell me."

Another silence.

"And I-thought you were gone forever."

Another beat of silence.

"'Arry, please."

He gives Eggsy his attention.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap." the younger man says, and he looks tired and so unlike himself that Harry nods. He doesn't know what to say, and Eggsy clearly doesn't either, but he sits back down, a wordless oath that he'll stay there with Harry, and his shoulders relax. He melts into his chair and exhales.

This isn't how he pictured this going. Not at all.

"'Arry?" Eggsy says softly a few moments later.

"Yes, Eggsy?" 

"I'm really fuckin' glad you're back."

And in that cold hospital room, Harry rubs a hand over his stomach when Eggsy isn't looking, and believes it. 


	10. Chapter 10

The next time Harry wakes up, he doesn't remember falling asleep in the first place so it's rather disorienting _and bloody fucking hell he's thirsty_ \--

"Here," Eggsy says, and a cup of water enters his view, along with Eggsy's face looking apologetic and a tad hesitant. Harry had no idea he was even still there.

He moves to sit up, and is surprised when he feels Eggsy's hand steadying him as he hands him the water, one arm remaining around him and helping him stay upright. It feels oddly intimate seeing as they had been snapping at each other a few hours ago.

Not the happy reunion he wanted, but it looks like he doesn't have much of a choice.

He doesn't seem to have a choice about _anything_ these days, and _god, it's driving him insane._

If there's one thing Harry Hart is used to, it's doing what he wants and being as independent as possible. Yet here he is, being propped up on Eggsy's arm, drinking water as the young man hovers.

How the mighty have fallen.

He plans to wallow in the feeling of helplessness for a while, and is just about to start when he feels Eggsy move closer, wrapping his arm around Harry's back and shimmying half of himself onto the bed, pulling the older man to his side. He finds himself nestled into Eggsy's body, and he blinks in slight confusion when the young man's arm tightens around him.

It shouldn't feel as intimate as it does, seeing as Eggsy's has seen him naked and had him moaning under him before. The boy has been inside him for fuck's sake, but something about this scenario makes his face color the slightest bit.

It doesn't stop him from accepting the comfort though. It feels wonderful, Harry's stupidly awkward thoughts aside. 

They sit like that for a while, and Harry--once he's sure that Eggsy is actually content to stay in that position--eventually relaxes into him fully.

He's half asleep when he hears Eggsy mumble, "'Arry?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

That's a loaded question if Harry's ever heard one.

"I don't quite know what you mean. In what way?"

"In _all_ ways." Eggsy says, the tenderness in his voice making Harry shift against him, "Just--checkin' to see if you're alright, yeah?"

"Are you?" Eggsy asks again after a few moments of silence.

Harry doesn't quite know what to say. He's in a hospital, injured, pregnant, definitely going to chewed out by Merlin and watched like a bug under a telescope as soon as he gets back to HQ, he's also desperately trying to hold his feelings for Eggsy at bay, and he only has so long until he starts showing and wearing suits becomes pretty much impossible.

"I don't know." he says simply, and they fall into silence again.

"About what the doctor said..." Eggsy starts, and Harry blanches because he knows exactly where this is going, "Is it serious? What he was talking about?"

"It could be." Harry says, figuring he should stay as close to the truth as possible. If he's being honest with himself, deep down he _knows_ that Eggsy will find out. Even if he doesn't find out the child is _his_ , there will be no way to hide the pregnancy for much longer. Especially since after this, Merlin will be keeping such a close eye on him he won't be able to book it to Argentina or something. Soon _everyone_ will know, and they'll have questions and opinions and Harry is absolutely _dreading it_. Being a carrier is rare enough, and while trans men having children is the norm and no one blinks an eye at it, he will be seen differently no matter what he does.

God, what if people start _coddling_ him? 

"You can't tell me?" Eggsy says, and the older man can tell he's trying to disguise the thread of hurt in his voice.

"You'll know soon enough." Harry answers, his voice slightly bitter.

They lapse into silence for so long after that that Harry wonders if that was the right thing to say until Eggsy speaks again.

"Are you sick?"

"No, Eggsy."

"Then what is it?"

"Patience, my boy."

~

Eggsy gives Merlin every fucking piece of his mind once Harry drifts back into unconsciousness.

"...and he's sick or sumfin, and you didn't _fucking_ think to _fucking_ tell me?" he finishes, shouting into the microphone in his glasses.

"Eggsy, he was in no shape to deal with reuniting with _anyone_. I did what I thought was best at the time. He wasn't up for it, and I wouldn't betray his trust like that. I would do the same for anyone else. He needed time."

Eggsy is silent before he says, "Is he sick?"

"You'll have to talk to him about that, Eggsy. It's not my place. I don't get involved in Kingsman agents' personal matters." Merlin answers carefully, and Eggsy huffs.

"'e's not right in 'ead Merlin. He put himself in danger, got 'imself sliced up and now he's hiding some obviously serious medical condition. That's self destructive behavior innit?" the younger man stops and sighs, "I'm just--worried about 'im."

"Try talking to him, Eggsy." 

"I _did_. Won't tell me nufin'." he snaps, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Well, try harder." Merlin says, "You two have to work this out. No one can do that but you and him, and I'm not getting in the middle of it."

Eggsy sighs, and severs the connection before walking back into the room. He's halfway to the bed before he has a thought.

The doctor.

Find the doctor and ask him. Or steal Harry's medical chart. Either one will do, and Eggsy has no qualms with either plan. 

If Harry is hurt or sick, Eggsy has to help him. No matter what the older man says.

Harry would do the same for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but more soon!
> 
> Oh Harry.


	11. Chapter 11

A vital part of Kingsman training is being able to gauge the vibe of a room.

A Kingsman agent must be able to walk into, well, _anywhere_ , and be able to tell whether they're in a hostile situation or not. It's a very useful skill to learn, seeing as a Kingsman agent is oftentimes _in_ said hostile situations. That split second that it takes to fumble around before one notices there's danger is all it takes. It could be the difference between life and death.

Before Harry even opens his eyes he can tell he's in a plane being transported back to England. He's been in the jet so many times that he knows it better than his own home. It smells like expensive leather, gunpowder, and whiskey, and he knows he's in the back room, hooked up to several IVs and monitoring devices. He knows that Eggsy is probably outside the door. 

When he opens his eyes, he feels like something will be going _very_ wrong, _very_ soon. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe call someone, but all that comes out is a cough.

He looks around, notices he's alone, and slowly and gingerly moves to sit up. It's easier than before, and he's grateful because he aims to find some fucking clothes and get out of this godforsaken bed. He takes a deep breath, looking down at the light bandaging on his middle, and concludes that he should safely be able to move without injuring himself further.

' _Healing already, then.'_ , he thinks, just before he unhooks himself from several machines, and gently takes out the IV needle. When he moves to stand, half of him expects to fall, but he seems to be able to keep his balance. 

Small miracles.

He likes the Kingsman jet. Quite a lot, actually. The back cabin has everything in case of an emergency (and seeing as it is, indeed, _Kingsman_ after all, there is _always_ an emergency), and the bathroom is actually _useful_ , unlike other aircrafts. Seeing as agents often spent quite a lot of time on the jet, Merlin endeavored to take certain precautions. Like making sure that the closet held extra suits in the exact size and cut for every Kingsman on the current roster at any given time. And the bathroom was fully stocked and contained a shower. 

Useful.

It's also quite tastefully decorated, which helps.

He opens the closet and picks through the suits hanging in it, and wonders if Merlin had the time to switch his suit label from Galahad to Arthur.

God.

He's _Arthur_.

He'd almost forgotten.

What a moment of bliss that ignorance had been.

But he pushes aside a suit for Lancelot--

And there it is. He'd recognize a suit cut for him a mile away. Gray. Very light pinstripes, cut with a narrow waist and a slim fit.

The label on the hanger reads 'Arthur'.

He grabs the damn thing, heads into the bathroom and tries not to think about it.

In any case, he's very sure that Merlin is most definitely going to fucking _kill_ him as soon as he lays eyes on him, so it's not like he'll have the title for much longer.

No bother.

~

A shower, a shave and an hour later and he feels like himself again. Or rather, he _looks_ like himself. 

He has no idea what he's feeling.

He doesn't read any further into it though. He's a Kingsman agent. He's not required to feel. Just do. So he ignores the nervous flutter in his stomach before he opens the door to the main section of the airplane and steps out.

The aircraft is something of a masterpiece, Harry would say. It's sleek in its design, but manages to hold everything a busy spy organization may need. Not like that's a mold that most airplane manufacturers think about filling, but it's nice regardless. The center of the plane,--in between the pilots cabin and the cabin in the back--consists of two plush seats on one side of the aisle, and one long couch going along the other end. The mahogany cabinets above each seat house the glassware and the brandy. It nicely compliments the honey brown leather of the seats and the cream walls. 

Pleasant to look at. Harry appreciates it.

He sees Eggsy's shoulders tense when he hears him enter, and the older man desperately wishes he _could_ have some brandy.

He primly sits on the couch, crossing his legs and peering past the boy's head, through the window. A part of him is curious to see the look on Eggsy's face. The other part of him trusts his training and doesn't want to disturb because he about 99% sure that the hostility and tension in the air and surrounding the boy is because of him.

Joy.

And here he was just wanting to get back home in peace. But Harry is, well,  _Harry_ and if there's one thing everyone can count on Harry to do it's to cause trouble. Partially why they chose him for this blasted job to begin with. Why he's good at it.

Though he has a feeling that even with all his training this conversation is still going to be a _bloody train wreck_.

They are silent, and Harry stares at the clouds going by.

"So what?" Eggsy starts, his voice dead, "You've got nothing to say?"

Harry's brow furrows, and he turns and looks at the young man. The fact that Eggsy is using his exaggerated posh accent instead of his usual slang laden speech is enough for Harry to be quite confused.

"To say about what?" Harry says carefully, watching the boy's face. Harry isn't easily confused, but this is...odd. They parted on somewhat good terms, (and by parted he means they managed to have a nice and slightly affectionate conversation before he passed out) so Harry is wondering what the _hell_ he missed.

Relationships have never been his strong suit. Platonic or romantic. Some things just seem to fly right over his head. He's can _charm_ practically anyone, form an identity and become that person for as long as he needs to, breathe life into a fake persona and make them real. But relationships? As Harry Hart? Not as easy.

So needless to say, Harry hasn't the faintest idea what Eggsy is so _upset_ about. 

This was really not the reunion (or post-reunion) he was hoping for.

"'Bout anythin'?" Eggsy snaps, "Runnin' off. Almost gettin' ya'self killed 'n all that."

Ah, the accent is back.

"I'm sure Merlin will have enough to say about my little misadventure when we get back..." he says blandly.

" _Fuckin'--_ " Eggsy starts, his face turning red with anger.

"...will definitely have enough to say for _all_ of us, trust me.--" Harry continues like he is oblivious to Eggsy's anger.

" _You don' fuckin' get it, do you?--_ " Eggsy cries.

"...and some very strong words, perhaps..." Harry continues airily. 

" _\--You--_ "

"...if he doesn't kill me first..."

" _Will you shut up!?_ " Eggsy wails, his eyes wide and his face a mask of rage.

Harry's eyes snap to Eggsy in shock. The room is quiet, other than Eggsy's rapid and angry breathing.

And of course, because Harry Hart _loves_ to escalate the situation, and has no idea when to fucking quit (his mother always told him he was a glutton for punishment), he narrows his eyes and goes, "Well, that wasn't very gentlemanly, Eggsy. Etiquette lessons with Merlin when we land. Promptly."

He's going to be kicking himself for this later. He sees Eggsy's look of pure, infuriated, indignant disbelief and _goodness he is absolutely sure he is definitely going to be kicking himself for this later--_

" _Wha' were you fuckin' thinkin'?_ " Eggsy yells, leaning forward in his chair.

Harry can feel it. He is going to be as petty and annoying as humanly possible during this _entire_ conversation. 

"At which point?" he says lazily.

"When you decided to go on a bloody fuckin' level red mission without tellin' no one?" Eggsy hisses. Harry doesn't think he's seen him so angry.

"You're chewing me out about this _now_?" Harry scoffs, "It's a bit _late_ for that, I think. We've already had two whole conversations and you want to yell at me about this _now_?"

Eggsy clenches his jaw, glaring at Harry, taking a deep breath and obviously trying to bite back some hideous remark.

"Besides," Harry says, "Your anger is disproportionate to the situation you're attributing it to. If you were this angry about my running off you would have said so earlier. So that can't be what you're angry about."

"An' 'ow would you know wha' I'm angry about?" Eggsy says through gritted teeth, his fists clenching, "You know everythin'?"

"Classic deflection." Harry says icily, he looks at Eggsy's fists, "And if you're going to hit me you might want to do it before Merlin gets a hold of me and murders me. After that you won't get the chance."

Eggsy freezes, his eyes widening. The room is silent again, and Harry wonders what he's done _now_.

Eggsy stares at him in horror. Harry looks back at him, his brow furrowed in question.

What the hell is going on? What has he said?

"You think I'd _hit_ you?" Eggsy asks quietly--still staring at Harry--eyes wide, "You? You think I'd do that to _you?_ " the boy says in disbelief and horror, " _Me_?"

Harry is honestly two words away from tearing his hair out. He hasn't been _this_ lost since he was stranded in the desert of Afghanistan that one time (it's a long story, in the end Merlin has what he thinks is a very amusing video of a _very_ dehydrated and delirious Harry Hart after having been found after about four days of sun and no water. Harry refuses to speak of it. Merlin watches it sometimes, for a giggle).

The point is that he is very confused. And _very_ worried.

"What-" Harry starts, but before he can finish his thought, Eggsy has bolted from his chair and joined the pilot in the cabin at the front of the plane, the clicking of the lock signifying the end of their conversation.

Harry furrows his brow and squints at the ceiling like the answer is written there.

What the _hell_ was _that_?

Christ.

Isn't _he_ supposed to be the hormonal one?

He's tired again. 

He's getting horribly used to the feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given Eggsy's history of abuse and what he's seen that may have not been the best thing to say Harry >.>


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, fine.

Harry will be the first to admit that he's a bit...emotionally bankrupt. 

Not _much_ , mind you.

But...a little.

It's never been too much of a problem until now, and thus he has exactly zero fucking idea how to deal with it. 

Eggsy was hurt by something he said, he knew that. But he couldn't quite get around the what and why of it all. 

He'd had that absurdly negative reaction after Harry made that quip about Eggsy throwing a punch, but he didn't quite get why it was a big deal to the other man. Their jobs require that they _kill_ people all the time, so violence really shouldn't be an issue. And if his issue is violence being aimed toward Harry, his extremely negative response still makes zero sense because Harry is being hit all the time. Along with shot, stabbed, burned...

It comes with the job.

And when he was a child he was smacked occasionally for bad or odd behavior (okay, all the time, because Harry will admit, he was a terror when he wanted to be when he was a child. He was as bad as he was odd.) so injuries of that nature aren't new to him. He was often bloody and sporting some large purple bruise as a child, and because his mother loved him (even if she was a bit distant and in the end, he got to know his nanny more than her) and father did too (even though he was cold and hard), they bothered to discipline him and reel in his strange and uncomfortable behavior. He never thought anything of it because apparently Harry was simply a bad child.  His parents told him that all the time. So he just believed them and accepted it. By the time he was meeting his parents' friends and their neighbors he was quiet and polite. Still got into trouble, still got hit, but never around people outside their home. The bruises were explained away by his mother in tiny white lies whenever someone asked.

In the end it helped. He can hide it better now.

He doesn't quite know what 'it' is, but he can hide it.

Anyway, the point is, Harry feels like he's missing something. And he needs a fucking nap. Or a short coma. Or caffeine mainlined directly into his bloodstream. 

He's far too tired to deal with this _feelings_ trollop. Harry hasn't seen Eggsy since they landed. 

He's in Merlin's office, waiting for the quartermaster and basically, waiting to be yelled at. He knows he deserves it, he not an idiot. That doesn't mean it was going to be pleasant though, or that he wasn't going to be as difficult as he could without the other man throttling him. He feels like a child throwing a tantrum, quite honestly, but it's not like everything has been sunshine and fucking roses since he got back. And really, running off was the _least_  of the damage he could do.

He could have...blown up the jet hanger, for instance. 

He just...really fucking doesn't want to be Arthur. He couldn't stand sitting at a desk day after day. He'd go mental, he broods as he leans back in the chair he's sitting in and stares at Merlin's monitors. They're blank with the exception of the Kingsman logo. 

Harry could just quit. He really could. Just quit and move to some remote part of the world where no one knows him. No Kingsman, no Eggsy...

...It's an okay little fairy-tale, but he knows he won't do it. He needs Kingsman. He likes his job. Or, he did. He has no idea where he stands now. 

He's startled out of his thoughts by the sound of an opening door, and then Merlin is standing in front of him, clipboard in hand, eyes narrowed.

"Okay, in my defense, it could have been a _lot_ fucking worse and--"

"Harry--"

"I never wanted to be Arthur because the job simply doesn't suit me and I--"

"Harry, _stop_."

"Didn't _mean_ for the mission to go tits-up, it just _did_ , and another thing, you sending _Eggsy_ of all people to retrieve me is a low blow, Merlin--"

" _Harry_ \--"

"And I never even _wanted_ to come to HQ that day but you dragged me there and told me that I was going to have to sit at a desk and basically do fuck-all for days on end and that that would be my job now, and let's be honest, it's  _bollocks_ \--"

"Harry, fucking _shut up_." Merlin snaps.

Harry snaps his mouth shut and glares. He didn't mean to ramble, he meant to talk this out in a civilized and gentlemanly manner, plan out an intelligent argument and all that, but apparently he can't do anything bloody _right_ these days.

Merlin sighs, "Thank you. Couldn't hear myself think." The man pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a breath, "Listen, Harry. I _may_ have fucked this up."

Harry blinks.

"You clearly need therapy--"

"Good _God_ , Merlin. _No_."

"and maybe some _physical_ therapy--"

"Absolutely not."

"and to see a psychiatrist. And not to mention some rest--"

"No. Thanks for the offer though." 

"Harry." Merlin says, and he sits down finally, looking the man in his eye, "I neglected your mental health when I brought you back here, and I'm sorry. But now, you need to work with me here. I think you need to take some time off."

"I think I liked it better when I thought you were going to yell at me, murder me then hide my body in an unmarked grave in Argentina, or something along those lines." Harry replies sardonically.

"I'm being serious, Harry."

"I'm aware. And I must politely decline." Harry says with a dismissive wave of the hand, "On all counts."

Merlin takes a deep breath, "You're having tremors, Harry. You can barely grab something in front of your face on the first try."

"How the hell do you know that?" Harry glares.

"Oh, fucking quite it, Harry. I have your medical files and your new office has a camera just like all the other's do."

"Oh, you're spying on me now?" Harry snaps.

"Don't change the subject." Merlin answers, "You need help, Harry. And you look  _exhausted_."

"I am _fine_ , Merlin."

"You lost an eye, Harry. And you're having a child. Your life is changing too quickly and you don't need Kingsman duties on top of it." the quartermaster argues.

"Merlin, if this is about me being Arthur then _fine_ , I'll fucking do it." Harry huffs, "Just...no more bloody _doctors_. I'm serious." 

Merlin stops, his eyes searching Harry's face. He looks...sad, almost. Harry decides to act like he doesn't notice.

"Fine." Merlin concedes, his voice low, "I know you, so I know you're not going to be swayed on this, but you're reporting for your checkups even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. And you're taking leave. I don't care if I have to lock you in your home."

"Wonderful." Harry drawls, as he stands and turns and walks towards the door.

"And Harry," Merlin calls as his hand closes around the knob, "I have taken some precautions since your stunt. You avoided the hell-fire this time but the next time you won't be so lucky. You won't get anywhere should you try that again. So don't."

Harry rolls his eyes, and exits the room.

And crashes straight into Eggsy. He really _is_ losing his touch, if it wasn't obvious enough before. Would he have so carelessly crashed into someone before...everything? Losing an eye and the other factors that made up the shitstorm that is currently his life? He doesn't remember. They both stumble back, and as Harry rectifies himself he can feel Eggsy's eyes staring holes into him. He finally looks up and their eyes meet, and Harry notes that Eggsy looks as hesitant and nervous as he feels. And of course, because Harry just knows they're such amazingly _balanced_ and emotionally _healthy_ human beings, they just stare at each other without saying a word.

Ah yes, healthy adults with healthy relationships. Being healthy. So, so healthy. Yes. Splendid.

After a few seconds, Harry's tolerance for the silence wears thin (and he never _was_ very patient, case in point: when he attacked Professor Arnold before he had even finished his question) and he opens his mouth to say something and maybe try to not fuck this up--

"Can we talk?" Eggsy says, "I just...I think we need to talk."

Harry snaps his mouth shut, and nods.

The boy nods in agreement and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He's ditched the suit, and is back in his usual attire. Track pants and all.

Harry tries not to stare. He turns and walks to his office without a word, and he can hear as the younger man follows. He opens the door, steps in and holds it for Eggsy until the young man gently moves his hand and holds it open himself, then shuts it.

He has no idea what to make of that.

Harry wanders over to the desk, and has no idea what to say, and wow, where is all that Harry Hart charm now?

"You 'ave an office now." Eggsy says, forced nonchalance in his tone.

Harry looks away, "Yes. It's awful." he says his voice grave.

"Well it's an office, ain't the end of the world." Eggsy smirks, his hands in his baggy track bottom pockets.

"No. It's awful." Harry quips, "I've made up my mind. Absolutely wretched."

Eggsy huffs a laugh.

Harry relaxes a bit.

"Listen 'Arry," Eggsy says, "about what 'appened on the plane...I just--You know I'd _never_ hit you, right?"

Harry looks at the boy, brow furrowed in confusion. He looks so _worried_.

"I...why did you have such an adverse reaction?" the older man asks.

Eggsy pales a bit before he says, "You don't 'it the people you care about. Ever. No matter what."

Harry looks at him, and he guesses he has some idiotic expression on his face because Eggsy's eyes widen and he says, "You know that, right 'arry?"

"I know." Harry answers, "And I would never do that, but why were you so upset? I don't quite understand."

"Dean 'it me a lot," Eggsy mumbles after a long moment, looking at his sneakers, "For everythin' really. Took me a long time to realize parents shouldn't do that. Even step-parents."

"Well, Dean was a criminal, Eggsy. A monster, a lowlife and an abuser. He's hardly a good example." Harry says, his eyes soft.

The boy looks at him for a long moment, "There _is_ no good example, 'arry." Eggsy replies slowly, looking at the man strangely.

Harry shrugs, "My parents used hit me all the time," Harry says easily, rounding the desk to sit in the chair behind it, "In the end I behaved better and wasn't so...unsettling. Maybe it's not what they do so much as who does it."

Eggsy looks at him in silence for a long moment, his face twisted something akin to pity and mild horror. 

Harry...is lost again. He eventually throws his hands up and sighs, "And what have I done _this_ time?"

"I just...what was you like when you was a kid, 'Arry?" Eggsy asks, his tone serious.

Harry shrugs (why are they even talking about this?), "I was a handful. A menace."

"And what did you do, exactly?" Eggsy says expectantly.

"Collected bugs, brought stray dogs home, climbed trees, got my clothing dirty...hid a snake in my room, once..." Harry trails off, shrugging and looking at the boy in exasperation, "What exactly are we even _talking_ about, Eggsy?"

"For fuck's sake 'Arry!" Eggsy wails, "That's regular ol' kid shit. That's what kids _do_. You was  _supposed_ to be doin' all that. That's just.. _playin_ ' and _explorin_ '. 'Nd you got 'it for it? No wonder you--" Eggsy breaks off suddenly with an inhale.

"No wonder I what?" Harry asks.

The boy sighs, "Just...never mind, okay?"

"I have no idea what we're talking about." Harry confesses after a moment, lost again.

Eggsy takes a breath, "We're talkin' about why you didn't tell me you was pregnant." he says slowly.

Harry wonders of he can repeatedly slam his face into his desk enough times to avoid this conversation. Instead of using self-mutilation as an escape tactic however, he just says, "And how did you acquire this information?"

The boy is silent, but Harry doesn't miss how hurt he looks, and he tries to ignore it because he doesn't know _why_.

"Whose is it?" Eggsy asks, voice low and trembling, looking at his sneakers as he grinds his heel into the ground.

"You didn't answer my question." Harry says evenly.

"Whose is it?" Eggsy snaps, eyes meeting Harry's, breathing heavy.

"And yet, my question remains unanswered." the older man replies coolly.

He's not upset, just...tired.

Exhausted actually.

Eggsy looks at him, and it obvious he's angry, but Harry can't quite fathom _why_. He doesn't know the baby's his, so why does it bother him so much? The boy's reaction is a lot stronger than just being annoyed he was left in the dark. He looks furious and heartbroken.

This boy makes Harry feel like an absolute idiot.

"Fine, 'Arry." Eggsy snaps, "Nicked your info off the doctor in Guyana. 'appy?"

"Ah, violated my privacy then." Harry says easily, "And went against my wishes. Which were, if you recall, that you  _wait_ until I tell you."

Eggsy takes a breath, "Whose is it?"

 _"For fuck's sake, Eggsy why does it matter?"_ Harry snaps, and now he's upset because he's _sick_ of not understanding what the hell is going on, and he's sick of people being cross with him for reasons he doesn't understand, and most of all, he just wants to go home and be unconscious for a few days.

"Are you still with him?" Eggsy asks dully, looking at Harry with narrowed, dark eyes.

"Who--" Harry starts before he realizes what the younger man is talking about, "Oh, for love of--Eggsy, I'm not having this conversation."

"Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?" Eggsy hisses.

"No, because it's idiotic and unimportant." Harry replies, voice cold, "Is this why you really wanted to talk? To argue?"

"This is so fucked up, 'Arry--"Eggsy says, jaw clenched.

"I agree."

"How could you just--"Eggsy starts, his voice rising.

"Care to elaborate?"

"I thought--after that night--" the boy continues.

"What are you--"

" _I thought after that night you were mine!_ " Eggsy shouts, "I though we--we had something, and we would...but--" blue eyes meet startled brown, "I can't do this." Eggsy says, voice desperate and shaky, and Harry opens his mouth to say... _something_ , but Eggsy is gone, the door swinging open behind him.

And Harry is left sitting there wide-eyed and feeling like his heart has been ripped from his chest.

After about ten minutes of staring at the wall and trying to bite down the nausea that has nothing to do with the baby, Harry finally calls Merlin and goes home.

He doesn't return for days, in fact, he doesn't leave his bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay angst!!
> 
> comments are welcomed and appreciated!


	13. Chapter 13

The tea cup is broken.

It's in ceramic splinters, strewn everywhere, delicate engraving and gold design glinting in the light of the morning sun.

Harry isn't surprised, after all, _he_ threw it.

He'd been fine a moment ago, and then he'd journeyed into his kitchen and everything hit him at once and like the child he apparently was, he'd lashed out and hurled he damn thing at the wall.

Fuck.

That was his favorite one.

He doesn't move any further into the kitchen because for one, he's not hungry anymore and is no longer in the mood for tea, and second, would rather not skewer himself on sharp shards of ceramic. 

He also childishly refuses to clean it up.

What the bloody hell does it _matter_? Maybe he'll call a cleaning service, maybe he'll lay in bed until he dies. Who knows. The possibilities are endless.

Was he this dramatic and easily prone to melancholy before? He doesn't remember.

That's how he thinks about his life now. In 'before' and 'after'. Previously it had been 'before joining Kingsman' and 'after joining Kingsman'. Now it's 'before Kentucky' and 'after Kentucky'.

Life was a shit ton easier when he had _both_ eyes and _wasn't_ up the duff and could actually _function_ like a goddamned human being. Now he can't even manage _tea_.

His inner monologue is verging on self-pitying and pathetic, so Harry opts to just plop himself--and since when did he 'plop'?--on the couch and fuck, he doesn't know, watch...the Graham Norton Show, or something? What does he even like to watch? Why does he have a television? Why does he even have a blasted living room? He's never in it, and when he's in his home at all he's in his office.

He realizes he's never taken time off before. Even when injured he'd been in the medical wing in Kingsman HQ and then, he guesses, fucked off to some other part of the world on the next mission not too long after being deemed physically healthy enough to be able to take on more gunfire, explosions, knife wounds, etc.

The point is, while he liked and took great care in decorating his home, he barely sees it as home. He barely knows the place, really. He has no idea why he has certain things, or what one should even do at home on days off simply because he's never had days off before.

He's never even wanted days off.

Harry is the type that likes to keep moving. Staying still for more than a day or two felt like failure and laziness. 

Harry still opts to lay curled up on his side on the couch, flipping on the television and clicking through channels, though. He can't help it, he's exhausted, it's like those last few days of sleep have done absolutely nothing at all.

And all of these channels are mind-numbingly awful. Completely _mindless_.

This bloody thing only shows game shows, the news, talk shows and daytime dramas? Seriously? Why do people rave about these things? Why is cable television even a service people pay for when there's internet? Why do people own televisions anymore? Why does _he_?

He clicks through a bit longer in muted frustration before he finds, _ah_ , a filmed version of the most recent production of Hamlet. The Old Vic, he thinks.

Not the biggest fan of Shakespeare, but it'll have to do.

The performers are overacting a bit, and while he isn't in the arts he still has to do a fair share of acting in the name of deception in getting a mission to go his way and he can say, with a healthy amount of conviction, that the lead man playing Hamlet could really stand to tone it down a little.

God, he's so _bored_.

And so one hour stretches to two and by hour three, the play has ended, another one has started, and Harry has definitely fallen asleep.

Classy.

The knock at the front door doesn't rouse him at first, but when it becomes less 'please answer the door' and more 'answer this door or I'll break it down myself' he startles awake (and he tries not to think about the fact that the violent banging brings back the vague but distinct sounds of the church massacre echoing in his head) and blinks blearily, getting up, wandering over. The loud and constant banging grates on his nerves and Harry snaps from tired to bloody annoyed very quickly.

He throws open the door to ask why the fuck--

"Eggsy."

The boy freezes, hand in the air poised to start banging again, and Harry feels kind of like the breath has been knocked out of him. He's been punched in the stomach enough times. He knows what it feels like.

He'd thrown open the door so quickly, and whats worse, he wasn't prepared to find Eggsy in his front step, more like a salesman or a Jehovah's witness. Someone whose face he can slam the door on. Maybe even an assassin gearing up to shoot him in the face again.

Not Eggsy.

This is...unexpected.

The annoyance rushes out of him and now he's just nervous...and confused.

Eggsy seems to mirror his feelings, his eyes wide and his mouth in a frown, until it takes on a much darker and determined look.

"Move, 'Arry." he says, and Harry...does. He has no idea why, this is _his_ home and at the very least he should have some questions first, for fuck's sake, but he lets the young man push his way inside, and it's only then that he takes notice of the several grocery bags Eggsy is carrying.

And thus, Harry ends up standing by his door, distantly hearing it click shut and the lock snap in place, as he watches the boy head into the kitchen, not looking back.

Harry looks up at the ceiling, squints, and sighs. And to think he was considering going back to sleep.

Clearly Eggsy is upset, but if he's upset, it's Harry's fault, and if it's Harry's fault why is Eggsy _here_?

He stands there for a few more moments, listening to the boy rattle around in his kitchen doing God knows what, and feels his mouth quirk up in a humorless smile when he hears Eggsy curse. He's seen the broken teacup then. 

By the time Harry wanders to the kitchen and peeks inside, Eggsy has something cooking in a frying pan on the stove, and the shards of broken china have been swept up and placed in the rubbish bin.

"What are you doing." Harry deadpans, and it's not a question because asking a question would take emotional energy he really doesn't have right now.

"What does it look like I'm doin'." Eggsy says icily, poking at whatever he's making with a spatula.

Harry isn't going to make this easy, and he finds that he's taken to being as difficult and antagonistic as he can possibly be, whenever he can, "It looks like you've intruded in on my home and are now cooking yourself breakfast while giving me an attitude." Harry says, "While, may I mention, being in _my_ home. That _you_ nudged your way into. _Unannounced_."

"I'm not makin' myself breakfast, this is for you." the boy says, voice flat.

"And _why_ is this a thing that's happening?" Harry replies, and he finds he can't seem to make himself step into the kitchen for some reason. It's like Eggsy has taken over the space and Harry is just a visitor.

"Because I know you're rubbish at takin' care of yourself, especially now." Eggsy says.

"First off, no, I'm not." Harry says defensively, "And secondly, why, may I ask, have you taken it upon yourself to rectify my behavior?"

Eggsy rolls his eyes, "When's the last time you've eaten then?"

Harry...has no idea. It clearly takes him too long to answer the question because Eggsy just blinks and goes, "Exactly."

Harry's eyes narrow, "Even so," he snaps, "Why are you here."

Eggsy moves to take out a plate and places what Harry can now see is an omelette on it, "I already answered that." he says.

Harry glares as the boy as he walks past him and places the plate on Harry's table, "Sit down. Eat." Eggsy demands, walking back into the kitchen.

"You can't just march into people's homes and start giving them _orders_ , Eggsy." Harry gripes, not moving.

"Sit. Down." Eggsy grits out through clenched teeth, grabbing the frying pan and placing it in the sink.

Harry rolls his eyes, but moves. The quicker he gets this over with the quicker he'll be left alone, he finds, and he really is quite sick of fighting with the boy.

Even so, Harry pokes at the food just to be infuriating. He's not sure if Eggsy notices, because from his place at the table he can see the boy moving around the kitchen like a frustrated and tense human hurricane, putting away the groceries he's brought over.

Harry isn't a _child_. He can get his _own_ groceries, thanks very much. He looks down, poking at the omelette and doesn't look up when he hears footsteps approach.

"Actually eat it." Eggsy snips, "Don' just fuck around with it." before placing a few pill bottles in front of him on the table. Harry opens his mouth to ask what the bloody hell they are before Eggsy interrupts.

"Prenatal vitamins." he says moodily. 

Harry stabs at his omelette and glares.

Eggsy opens his mouth, and Harry knows it's to chastise him again for not eating it and before Eggsy can get the words out, Harry takes a bite and glares some more. Eggsy snaps his mouth shut, rolls his eyes in annoyance and goes back into the kitchen, emptying the remainder of the bags and placing things in the cabinets and the refrigerator.

Eggsy wants to be upset? Well he's upset too. He doesn't want to fight and he doesn't necessarily mean to be bitchy, but he can't seem to help it.

He eats his food and alternates between glaring at the vitamins and glaring at Eggsy.

The boy walks over when he sees that Harry is finished, holding a glass of water, shakes out two vitamins and puts them in the plate and sets the water down.

"Take 'em."

Harry glares.

Eggsy glares back.

Harry glares harder.

Eggsy responds in kind.

Harry glares...and takes the damn vitamins.

Eggsy has a smug expression on his face as he takes the plate and goes to put it in the sink.

And Harry has had quite about enough.

He's halfway up the stairs when he hears an annoyed, "And where are you goin'?"

"To sleep." Harry snaps, "Am I still allowed to do that or do you have a say in that too? Stay, or don't. I'm going to bed."

He hears Eggsy make an annoyed sound and he slams the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy: *angrily takes care of Harry because even though he's pissed as hell he still loves the fuck out of him and will not let him go through this alone*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay two updates in one day!

When he hesitantly inches his way back downstairs a few hours later, his robe tucked around him and sleep still clinging to his skin, Eggsy is still there.

The boy is on the couch, the television on some show Harry has never seen before, and he's taken his tracksuit sweater off, and Harry tries not to stare at the boy's chest in the tight polo he has under it as he pointedly ignores him and marches into the kitchen for tea.

He refuses to acknowledge the boy on his couch, because he came down here for tea and nothing more.

Let it never be said that Harry Hart can't hold a grudge. 

He distracts himself and looks in the cabinets, inspecting what Eggsy has bought, and resolves not to eat any of it. He also tries not to feel the intense fondness for the boy bubble up in his chest when he notices that everything is organic and suitable for pregnant people to eat without retching. A lot of it are heavy starches and such, and Harry distantly realizes that one has to gain weight to carry a child, and he tries not to think about it. He peruses through the rest of the groceries instead. Salmon, sweet potatoes, vegetables, meat...

He also notices all his whiskey is magically gone.

Annoyance flares. Does Eggsy really think he's stupid enough to drink?

The kettle whistles while he's looking over a box of oatmeal, and he puts the box back and finishes making his tea.

Harry is dead-set on taking himself right back up the stairs, and is just exiting the kitchen and about to walk right past the boy when he sees him turn on the couch to look at him out the corner of his eye and says, ""Arry, come on. Sit down for a minute, will ya?"

He pauses, then mentally kicks himself. He has a plan, it was a simple plan. Get tea, get out. Never leave his room again. Simple. To the point. Hardly any room for error.

Harry Hart fails and ends up on the other side of the couch, tea on the coffee table and eyes on the television, and determined not to look at the young man next to him.

"Really?" Eggsy sighs, "'Arry..."

The man on the television shoots another man. The gun is a .45, and if this show had an ounce of realism the bullet would have lodged itself in it's victim without the great big dramatic spurt of blood that the show added for dramatic effect.

 _This_ is why Harry doesn't watch television.

"Fine, ignore me." Eggsy huffs, "But you 'ave to start eatin' regularly. And a lot. It ain't just you anymore. When my mom was pregnant with Daisy she ate everythin' and she was _still_ a bit underweight, accordin' to the doctor."

"I'm still confused as to why you're even here." Harry says smartly.

"We may both be actin' like complete _arses_ to one 'nother but I _am_ 'ere to 'elp." Eggsy says evenly.

"Why." Harry demands, still not looking at him.

Eggsy sighs in exasperation, "'Cause I care about you, you prick." 

Harry laughs. He doesn't mean to, but he can't help it. The way they're both verbally enacting the equivalent of two children slap fighting on a playground is incredibly amusing to him. 

They're both secret agents.

That makes it even funnier, in a sad and idiotic sort of way.

"And who helped you choose the groceries?" Harry asks, once he's settled down.

Eggsy shifts, "Nobody." he answers, "I researched 'nd remembered what my mum ate when she was pregnant with Dais. Vegetables, breads, nothing with caffeine, beans for protein...shit like that. Everythin' in there is safe. I checked. Then...double checked."

Harry is silent for a few moments. He has no idea what to say.

"You _do_ have to start eatin' more." Eggsy adds.

Harry rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious." Eggsy replies firmly.

"I can take care of myself." Harry says before he mentally kicks himself. Why does he have to be so bloody difficult and why can't he _stop_?

Eggsy makes a noise of disbelief and mutters a sarcastic, "Sure."

Harry's eyes narrow, "Why are you so-"

"What," Eggsy snaps, "upset? Still 'aven't figured it out?"

Harry huffs, anger building, "This was an exceptionally awful idea, I'm going upstairs--"

"Wow. That's 'ealthy, just run as soon as conversation gets uncomfortable, righ'?" Eggsy mutters.

Harry finally turns to look at him and snaps, "If I remember correctly," he snaps, "You're the one who ran last time, not me, so don't--"

"I didn't come 'ere to fight with you again, 'Arry." Eggsy yells in frustration, turning to face him completely.

"The boy says as he picks a fight." Harry replies icily.

"You ain't too agreeable yourself." Eggsy says through clenched teeth.

"What are we even fighting about? This is ridiculous." Harry says, voice still tight with rage.

"I think we both know what we really should be talkin' about," Eggsy says, jaw twitching, "but I know you _won't_ talk about it!"

"And what is that?"

"Who is he?"

At some point, and Harry has no idea when, they'd ended up face to face, breathing each other's air and rage, yelling with their faces mere centimeters apart.

"Who--" Harry starts, before he realizes yet again, what Eggsy is asking about, "Oh, for the love of God, are we doing this _again_?"

"Yeah, we are." Eggsy yells, face red, "I just wanna know. Just tell me!"

"Why does it matter?" Harry snaps.

"If it doesn't _matter_ ," Eggsy hisses, "Why don't you wanna tell me?"

"Haven't you intruded quite enough?" Harry replies, tone dark.

"Well, consider this payback for all that shit you spouted in the pub the first time we met."

"Are you really taking it back there?" Harry says in outrage and disbelief, "How is that, in any world, comparable?"

"Who. Is. It."

"I'm not going to tell you so come off it!" Harry snaps.

And one second Eggsy looks like he's going to start yelling, and the next, he's grabs Harry's face and is kissing him.

It's not soft or tender, it's hard and bruising and Harry responds in kind once the shock has worn off.

And like that, it's like a switch goes off and Eggsy is on top of him, and they refuse to break the kiss and let each other breathe until Eggsy starts tugging clothes off and Harry traces his hand over the boy's back under his shirt. And suddenly Eggsy is kissing him again, neither of them have a stitch of clothing on, and the room is filled with gasps, and the sounds of lips meeting and skin sliding against each other. It's only quick and rough until Eggsy ends up kissing his neck and holding his hips as Harry feels the head of his cock nudging at his entrance, and then...something changes. 

It's softer, and Eggsy handles him more gently until Harry is all stuttered breath and gasps, pressing into Harry slowly and kissing him deeply. Harry makes a breathless little sound as Eggsy fills him, and the man on top of him wraps an arm around his waist as he slowly thrusts into the pliant body under him, whimpers filling the air and heat building between them. Kisses go from teeth and bites to lips and tongue and they gasp into each other's mouths, Harry's eyes half lidded and his hand pressing into Eggsy's back. Eggsy breathes deeply, biting his lip as he feels Harry clench around him and arch into his body when he hits a particularly sweet spot. They're both flushed and gasping and moving together and they both can barely fucking _breathe_ for how they're kissing and refuse to let each other's lips go. There are a lot of things they both could say, but in the end, they stick to gasps of each others name.

They fall apart together, and while Harry is silently panicking-not knowing what to do next-Eggsy decides for him, gathering him in his arms and maneuvering himself so Harry has his head on his chest.

Eggsy leans his cheek on Harry's hair, and is relieved the man can't see the expression of anguish on his face.

~

Eggsy leaves.

He's quiet about it, covers Harry and dresses quickly and quietly, stealing glances at his relaxed face and messy hair. He looks...perfect.

Eggsy intends to be back. Soon. But he has to get out of this house, at least for now.

He makes sure all the lights are off, then he steps out, the door clicking shut behind him.

The night is chilly, though comfortably so, and Eggsy gets halfway down the block before frustrated tears start prickling behind his eyes. 

He refuses to fall apart on some street corner. So he does the only thing he knows to do.

He calls Roxy.

It's the middle of the night, and he wouldn't blame her if she didn't answer, or if she answered and then yelled at him, he just...needs some sort of interaction right now.

It rings once, and he relaxes a bit when he hears a sleepy, "Hello?" on the other end of the line.

"Uh, Rox?" he chokes, and he can't say more than that at the moment, his throat tightening and his hand running through his hair and tugging.

He hears a shift on the other end, and then an alert and concerned sounding Roxy says, "Eggsy, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"I-I just..." he says, and he refuses to call it a sob, but that's what it is.

A fucking Kingsman spy and he's about to cry on a street corner with his hand fisted in his hair in despair. Amazing.

"Are you hurt?" she says, and he can imagine the look on her face, sharp and ready to kill should she need to.

"Physically, nah." he manages, "But I-I..."

"Get here, Eggsy." she demands, and he can hear her moving around on the other end, "Get here right now and we'll talk. I'm opening the wine, so hurry up or I'll drink it all myself."

Eggsy laughs, and it's a watery and sad sound, before he croaks out a quiet, "Thanks, Rox."

"Don't thank me yet," she says smartly, and he can hear the smile in her voice, "If you don't get here in twenty minutes I'm starting on my first glass and by the time you _do_ get here I could be totally useless to you."

Eggsy laughs, "Okay, okay. I'll be there in fifteen." 

He hangs up, Roxy's departing laugh still ringing in his ears, and he wipes his hand across his face before walking down the street. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend to write a sex scene *looks up at the stars, a single tear rolling down my cheek* but that's what happened. The universe has spoken.
> 
> Bless.
> 
> Also I feel I must remind you that is a slow burn story, and I want to take my time with it, so please don't get too frustrated if it doesn't move at the pace you want. If I rushed it, this story wouldn't be as enjoyable as it seems to be, trust me. Things will happen when they happen, and really, isn't that the fun of it? So no need to ask when this or that will happen in the comments, it's coming, I promise!
> 
> Also poor Eggsy. My lil egg.


	15. Chapter 15

He likes Roxy's apartment.

It's small, with big windows, so it's already really fucking nice, but he likes Roxy's apartment because she has decorated it in a way that's so...her.

One thing Eggsy knows about his best friend is that she likes plaid.

She also likes purple.

Therefore, the decor is accentuated with purple plaid. On paper the concept sounds tacky, but Roxy has managed to make it look really fucking cool.

Well, if anyone could, it's Rox.

She's certainly taken advantage of her Kingsman salary, and he can't blame her. He will too once his mom and Daisy are stable. Buying a house, a car and private schooling for Daise is sapping  a lot of his time. He doesn't mind, because he likes making sure his family is okay, and he has the money to pay for it about 3 times over. In between Kingsman duties, spending time with his mum, taking Daise to the zoo and then making an effort to see Jamal and Ryan when he can, he doesn't have too much time for shopping for himself or fucking around. And even less so now with Harry.

He wouldn't have it any other way though.

Roxy opens the door and yanks him inside by the front of his jacket, and drags him over to a stool at her kitchen island without a word.

She rounds the other end and takes out two glasses, pours the wine into them, pushes one towards Eggsy and says, "Talk."

Eggsy takes a breath, a long sip of wine, nearly emptying the glass, and spills everything. He can't hide much from Roxy, and while he doesn't trust easily--being beat on by Dean since he was 9 pretty much squashed that out of him--he trusts Roxy. She's his best friend.

So he spills.

The woman listens, elbows on the counter and glass in her hand, and refills Eggsy's glass whenever he tilts it toward her in a silent request. When he finishes she looks at him, raises and eyebrow and promptly says, "Wow. That's fucked up."

And that's why he loves Roxy to death. She doesn't try to spout some bullshit to make everything seem okay. She acknowledges when things fucking _suck_. 

Eggsy nods miserably.

"And he won't tell you who it is?"

"Not even a hint."

Roxy looks him in the eye, refilling her glass, "Do you love him?"

Eggsy balks and rests his forehead on the table miserably, "Yeah."

"Tell him."

He snaps his head up and stares at her, "What?"

Roxy raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow, "Eggsy. The man is basically _completely_ emotionally tone deaf. He won't know anything unless you tell him explicitly. You could bring him flowers every day and he'll  _still_ miss the point unless you just say it plainly. Kingsman agents are fucking amazing at a lot of things. Emotions that aren't tied to the job? Not one of them."

" 'E don't want me, Rox." he says quietly face red with slight intoxication.

"And how do you know that?" she muses, "He's an idiot when it comes to this. You're more in touch with the feelings rubbish than he is. Plus, he's been through a lot. Losing an eye and all that. He's not in the best headspace currently, and Merlin let it slip that he's refused therapy."

"What?"

"See?" Roxy says, "An idiot."

" 'E won't talk to nobody?" Eggsy echoes, refilling his glass, "Therapy is mandatory. Merlin would have my balls if I missed one session."

"Something is wrong, Eggsy." Roxy says after a sip, "And it's not on the surface. No one goes through something like being shot in the head and doesn't end up with a shit ton of psychological problems. He's probably depressed as fuck, too. Not to mention anxious because all of a sudden he's expecting a baby and you _know_ how Harry is the _least_ tactful living member of Kingsman. He's probably _worried_ for the kid. Probably afraid he'll cock it up. His entire life has turned on it's head. He's freaking out and shutting down."

Eggsy blinks, "'Ow the 'ell do you _know_ all this?" 

Roxy shrugs, "I can read people, I guess. It's what makes me good at my job. Anyway, the point is that you have to be patient with him. He's delicate right now and dealing with a lot of bullshit that I'm 100% sure he doesn't know how to handle. His life is very unpredictable and opaque, currently. I'm sure some transparency on your part would be greatly appreciated."

"It's just," Eggsy sighs, "when we were...together that night. I thought--"

"I know, Eggsy." she cuts in, "But like I said, emotionally tone deaf. He probably had no idea you wanted him in that way. He needs to be told. And in regards to the baby, whoever's it is doesn't seem to be in the picture anymore."

"Bastard probably left 'im. Bet 'e found out 'n fucked off. Probably some flaky fuckin' posh bloke." Eggsy grumbles angrily, "If I find out who 'e is, I'm hunting 'im down and ripping 'is face off. How could anyone leave someone with a baby like that? How could anyone leave ' _Arry_ at all?"

"Maybe he doesn't know?"

"Mm." Eggsy shrugs, "Either way, they don't deserve 'im. Anyone who fucks someone like 'Arry and just _leaves_ doesn't fucking deserve him. With someone like 'Arry, you _stay_."

Roxy smirks, " _My God_ you're smitten. Tell him _that_ too."

Eggsy rolled his eyes and then smirked, "And why don't you," he starts, pointing at her, "Tell me about what's going on with you and Merlin."

Roxy narrows her eyes, "Oh, _fuck_ no." 

~

It's 3am and Eggsy is sitting in the park closest to Harry's house. It's small, and of course, at 3am it's fucking empty because Eggsy is the only one crazy enough to be out here at this hour. The sun is rising though, and it's nice. He'll have to bring Daise out to see the sunrise one of these days. She'd love it.

He sips at a coffee that has long gone uncomfortably lukewarm, and stares blankly ahead. He should have gotten some sleep, but his stomach is coiling in on itself and he doesn't know why. It's the same ominous feeling he'd get when Dean was in a bad mood. Like something's coming. 

He _really_ should have slept instead of sitting out here freezing his balls off. He doesn't even know what he's _doing_ out here, really.

He's exhausted. 

And fucking miserable. What would happen now? They'd fucked again, but what did it mean, exactly? What now? Do they ignore it? Act like it never happened? Are they going to be together? Does Harry even _want_ him? He loves Harry but if he wants Eggsy to leave him alone he will. It'll hurt like hell and he'd die inside, but he would. But would Harry do that? What if the other was still in the picture somehow? What if--

Eggsy is getting far too used the sharp pain of headaches.

He thinks about Harry. He tries not to, but in all honesty Eggsy is fucking kidding himself because he's going right back to the man's house in a few hours anyway, so it's not like keeping him out of his thoughts is going to do a whole fucking lot. 

Harry Hart, who doesn't know his parents were abusive, even defends them (and Eggsy doesn't even _want_ to think about the fact that Harry has been brainwashed into believing that he _deserved_ it or that he was an uncontrollable child when he was just being a normal kid because it makes him _sick_ and _furious_ ).

Harry Hart who hijacks airplanes and throws himself into chaos because he quietly fears standing still.

Harry Hart, who seems to keep surviving against all odds anyway.

The man who he spent the night with four months ago and--

Eggsy blinks, his brow furrowing in thought.

And like that the puzzle pieces click into place with a sharp snap. Four months...

 _Wait_.

A strong breeze blows through the park, rustling the leaves on the trees.

 _Four_ months.

A squirrel runs past.

Eggsy's brow furrows. It's been four months...and any longer means Harry would have started showing so...what did his mom look like at four months? He...barely saw anything at all. She'd gained a little weight but not much, and Harry looks to be about around the same--

And when would Harry have had time to be with anyone else in that span of time? He's just been released from the medical wing after the incident with Professor Arnold, and if they slept together after that but before Kentucky which was-- 

Four months ago--

Eggsy drops the coffee. It sloshes all over his shoes.

He doesn't notice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally decided to stop torturing you.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry wakes up at around 3 am on his couch, alone, with come drying on his skin, feeling like an absolute-bloody-fucking  _idiot_. The house is dark and quiet, like it's mocking him, and the only light is a clock that reads 3:15.

He must really fucking hate himself, _honestly_ , because that's the only reason why he engages in this sort of self-sabotage.

But then again, why would Eggsy stay, he thinks dully. What would the boy possibly gain from it? From _him_? He's old and not nearly as capable as he was, he's got baggage (literally) and has been as insufferable as possible since he's returned to this fractured, awful thing he calls a life.

 _He_ doesn't even want to be saddled with himself. Why would someone as amazingly lively and vibrant as Eggsy want to be? The boy has his whole life ahead of him. 

Harry's has pretty much ended.

~

Eggsy wanders around for hours.

He can't quite muster up a reaction, and his head is completely jumbled and foggy, but one phrase wraps around his brains and squeezes.

_'It's mine.'_

It's been on loop since the park, and he has no idea what time it is now, but the sun is up and rest of the world is awake so that's enough of a clue. His hands are cold, even tucked into his coat pockets, and he has no idea where he's going, but he just...can't stop.

_'It's mine.'_

A lot of things in life don't make sense to Eggsy. A lot of things that have happened to _him_ don't make any sense to him. Things that have happened to his mum, to Daisy--

He doesn't understand how someone could claim to love his mum but treat her so badly, like Dean had.

He doesn't understand how Daisy--someone so cute, innocent and pure--could be made up of half of Dean's DNA.

When he was little, Eggsy didn't understand why his dad wasn't around.

He couldn't understand why Dean hit him.

He couldn't understand why his mum stayed.

But even after a life of not understanding 80% of what happened in said life, he understands Harry Hart even _less_.

He didn't understand why Harry gave him that medal.

He doesn't understand why Harry picked him to be his choice to train and be his candidate for the place of Lancelot.

He didn't understand why Harry chose to make his life better by giving him a purpose and something meaningful to do.

He doesn't understand why Harry dismisses his parents for all they've done, while condemning Dean in the same breath, like they aren't the same heinous offense.

But most of all, he doesn't understand why Harry wouldn't tell him. How could he hide that from him? Didn't he think he deserved to know?

Did he think Eggsy couldn't do it? That he wouldn't _want_ to? That he wouldn't _care_? 

He _does_. He _does_ care. He cares so much it hurts. Because it's his and he...he wants it. He wants to care of them, to be there. It's startlingly easy to become attached to a baby, a thing that he's never even laid eyes on, that he didn't even know was his a day ago, and he now knows what his mum was talking about.

_'I love little Daisy already, Eggsy.' his mom had said, eyes bright._

_'You've never seen 'er.' he smirked, and smiled wider when it earned him a light, playful smack on the head from his mother._

_'I don't need to see her to love her. She exists. That's enough. So I love her to death.'_

He...understands now. It's an understatement, because he'd learned that the child was half of his DNA less than 12 hours ago, but he already considers the baby his, regardless of whether Harry told him, or even wants him to know, or not. If Harry doesn't want him, he'll deal. It'll hurt like nothing he's ever felt and he'll want the man forever...but he'll respect his wishes and fucking deal with it. But his child will _not_ be kept from him. He fucking _refuses_ to be another absent father. He never intended to, and he certainly won't accept it now. He'll be there.

 _Fucking Christ._ A baby. He'd made a _baby_. With _Harry_. A small life that will depend on them and need them to be somewhat mentally stable.

He can't help thinking that he poor thing is doomed.

A baby. A tiny, little, chubby human that will gurgle and smile and cry. A little...person. That _he_ helped make, whether he knew it or not. But he...he'd created it. He and Harry. And it'll look like them, and call him dad and need diapers and need to learn how to walk and speak. He'll need to buy a crib and a changing station and tiny clothes and get up at 2 am when the little thing starts screaming and crying bloody fucking _murder_. He'll have to deal with throw up and dirty diapers. He'll have to rock them to sleep and feed them and learn how to burp them.

Eggsy doesn't noticed he's stopped dead in the middle of the crowded street until someone bumps him and gives him a dirty look. That doesn't stop the watery, ecstatic laugh that bubbles out of him.

~

The warm bath isn't doing much. But fuck it, he's not moving.

Why should he? He has nowhere to be, so yes, he'll keep refreshing the hot water surrounding him, thank you very much.

Harry closes his eyes and leans back. He tries not to think about the fact that he can't even look at his stomach much less touch it and accept what's happening. He tries not to think about how he's being unfair, and that the child didn't ask to be there, or to be laden with _him_  of all people as a parent, but is, and Harry needs to come to terms with it and start taking care of himself. He tries not to think about the fact that he's on his own. He tries not to think about how he's tired an despondent all the time, and that he knows it has nothing to do with the child. He tries not to think about the fact that he bandage over his eye needs to be changed but he can't even fucking bear to touch it. Or think about it. Or acknowledge that a vital part of him is missing and he'll have to live with it forever.

He still hasn't quite processed anything. He goes for his famous _'ignore-it'_ approach. 

It's startlingly easy, because somehow everything is so muted that nothing really bothers him. The fact that he's only seeing out of one half of his face only earns a small shrug every morning when he remembers that he's permanently injured and useless, and he moves on. Not out of any sort of acceptance but because...he can't quite...connect with his body or anything that's happening to it. He distantly knows that something is wrong and that he shouldn't be like this, but if he's honest, he prefers it like this. If he ended up being fully in the present and connected then he'd be an absolute mess. He wouldn't be able to handle it.

This is better.

Harry stares blankly at the tiled wall opposite him and wonders if he should put the child up for adoption. Find a nice family, where he knows they'll be safe with people who will love them, and just...give them up. It would be better for the poor thing than it having to be raised by Harry. He's fine with children when he comes in contact with them, he even _likes_ them, they're simply adorable and he's good with them, but there's a stark difference than being good with a child you cross paths with when they wander away from their mother at Tesco and you have to bring them back to her than actually _raising_ one. Than having one depend on you. Than having to take care of them and make sure they are safe and happy and stable. 

He'd be _awful_ at it. The poor thing would end up so _fucking_ screwed up and Harry... _doesn't want that_. He doesn't know a lot about himself at this very fast and confusing part of his very fast and confusing life, but he knows this. He doesn't want to ruin them. And he knows he would. He'd ruin this small and vulnerable life just like his parents ruined his. Harry isn't an idiot, he knows his parents were...unconventional. He may not know _exactly_ what they did wrong because honestly, everything they did makes sense to him, even though he'd never do that to anyone else, but _somehow_ they went wrong. They loved him (he _thinks_ , anyway, he never really was sure) but something went wrong, somewhere.

Because he turned out like this. 

He'd always known he was defective, his parents told him that all the time, he just was lucky enough to find Kingsman and make whatever was _wrong_ with him _work_ for him.

But a child, an innocent, big eyed, chubby cheeked child deserves so much better than what Harry would be able to give. Even his best wouldn't be enough.

The baby would be the one to lose. Harry is used to himself, he's been living as himself his entire life. But to saddle a poor, small, unsuspecting soul to the mess that was him? He can't do that. He's not that cruel.

He could do this baby a favor and give them something Harry can't give them. A family. Normal parents. A home.

Adoption.

That's certainly something to think about.

~

The happiness almost breaks Eggsy's face in two. He should be nervous and all that. He should be shitting himself, and he's sure that'll come later, but for now...he's smiling like an absolute idiot in the middle of the crowded street in London. So many amazingly great things have happened to him. Kingsman, being able to help his mum and Dais, being able to get them far from Dean, having a job, a purpose.

And now a baby? 

A gurgling baby that'll call him dad? An exciting new era in life?

Eggsy's sure the enthusiasm will kill him. His heart might break his ribs, and he ignores the stares he's getting because he probably looks like a fucking psycho. Nothing else matters. At all. A _baby_.

He'll have to tell his mum, and Jamal and Ryan, and Rox... 

But for now, he just wants to be able to stand there and feel his heart thumping in his chest and be fucking blindingly happy. 

~ 

Harry wants to fucking _scream_.

He settles for taking his prenatal vitamins and crawling into bed, making sure his hands avoid his stomach like it's some toxic thing attached to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I'll still be torturing poor Eggsy. Lets just let him be happy for like 3 seconds first okay?


	17. Chapter 17

The happiness and nerves give way to a simmering, steady anger after awhile, and by the time Eggsy knocks on Harry's door, he's a bit red in the face.

He doesn't intend to yell. He doesn't intend to hurl insults. He intends to--

Well, it doesn't fucking _matter_ because Harry isn't answering the door. 

The house is dark and silent--he can see that even from the outside--and Eggsy feels tendrils of worry creeping up his throat, mixing with every other emotion rattling around inside him. 

He knocks a few more times, waits for about five minutes, then looks around.

It's not exactly polite...or _legal_. But he takes the safety pin out of his pocket, bends it just right, looks around one more time and gets to picking the lock.

The only reason he knows how to do this is because Dean used to lock him out of the apartment sometimes when he was a kid. So, it was either pick up another slightly illegal skill or freeze to death outside in winter. 

Eggsy chose to tick off another box on his 'why-I'm-a-delinquent' chart. Better than having to sleep outside.

He also learned that most locks were the same. Posh neighborhoods, middle-class neighborhoods, and neighborhoods like his. Usually the locks for the posh ones took a bit more work, but eventually if done right, he would hear that telltale 'click'. And it would be open. No _wonder_ people get robbed. Though to be fair, Eggsy is especially _good_ at lock-picking, though he only uses it strictly when he needs to these days. Which, between missions and him forgetting his own house key every now and again, is still startlingly often.

Eggsy also wonders if maybe Kingsman agents should have better locks and alarm systems than the average person, but then again, it's not like they are ever traced back to their homes. It's simply never happened. Merlin makes sure of it. 

A Kingsman agent has never been attacked when playing civilian. Eggsy always had the feeling that they took extra precautions so that agents can have some bits of a normal life. They'd probably go mad otherwise.

The point is, locks...they're usually very similar.

So when the lock to Harry's home clicks and lets him in, Eggsy isn't surprised.

He is surprised by the fact that Harry isn't where he left him. And the house smells like...lavender?

Eggsy flips on a light, and stands in the living room. It's still early, and Eggsy really counted on Harry still being on the couch, asleep. When had he woken up? Why is the house dark? 

He looks at the couch, brow furrowing.

So Harry had awoken and--

ah, _shit_.

Eggsy rubs a hand down his face. Harry probably thinks he fucked him and then left him.

 _Shit_.

Excellent. Good _fucking_ job, Eggsy. Good fucking job, mate. _Aces_.

"'Arry?"

His voice is met with no response. The boy shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to sort through his emotions. He has no idea what the hell to do. He's angry, but he's thrilled and he's worried and pissed off that Harry would--

"How did you get in here?"

The voice cuts through the air and Eggsy turns and sees Harry standing on the stairs looking utterly fucking _exhausted_. He somehow still manages to look oddly prim and proper though, and Eggsy would laugh if he didn't feel like he wanted to scream, cry and throw up. Simultaneously.

His mum would be so proud.

To be fair though, beneath his usual aloof, lofty and uncaring air, Harry doesn't look like he's doing much better. His hair is slightly tousled, he has dark circle under his eyes and  Eggsy is torn between wanting to demand an answer as to why Harry didn't tell him the baby was his, fussing over the man to make sure he's taking care of himself, or standing there slack jawed and still.

God, they're both a fucking mess. This kid is _doomed_.

"Picked the lock." Eggsy answers, keeping his voice even.

Harry sighs, and Eggsy has the instinct to reach out and comfort him.

He fidgets, and keeps his hands to himself. 

"And why," Harry asks, "did you break into my home?"

Eggsy feels his eyes narrow, "Usually when someone knocks at the door you answer, 'Arry. That's kinda 'ow that goes."

The man looks at him for a long time. The air is thick with everything they refuse to say, but if they could just stop snapping at each other for five _fucking_ minutes--

"So what are you back for?" Harry asks, face blank.

Eggsy rolls his eyes, "Jesus Christ, I went for a _walk_. I didn't walk out on you." 

The younger man looks up at Harry, and knows just from the look on his face that he doesn't believe him.

"And I wouldn't 'ave 'ad to break in if you woulda opened the door." Eggsy finishes.

This entire conversation is stupid. One of the most fucking _pointless_ he's ever had, but he doesn't know how to start a more serious one without making them both angry. They're both feeling raw and unstable, Harry more so than Eggsy, but they can't seem to stop digging their fingers in each other's wounds the first chance they get.

What the hell does that say about _them_?

They're _disasters_.

Eggsy himself is already feeling a bit fragile and wary, and Harry--as pissed as he is at the man--doesn't look like he can take much more conflict. 

He looks so exhausted and _unhappy_.

Eggsy wants to fix that, he really does, but they can't seem to stop bumping heads--

"Goodbye, Eggsy." Harry says in a resigned tone, turning and heading back up the stairs.

"'Arry!"

He doesn't turn back. And Eggsy throws all sense of subtlety out the window because for fuck's sake, he just _picked the man's lock to get into his home_ , there isn't much more intrusive he can be. To hell with it.

So he runs after him. 

The entire second floor smells like lavender, and Eggsy turns at the top of the stairs to be faced with Harry himself, looking confused and a bit affronted, like Eggsy was an apparition who never appeared on the second floor before. 

" _What_?" Harry asks, exasperated, "What is it? Why are you _here_?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eggsy blurts out. He's sick of dancing around words with Harry. They're going to do this and they're going to talk and they're going to work this  out. They have to. 

He won't let them go a second longer lying to themselves or each other.

Harry's face pales and his eyes widen a fraction before his mask slips back into place.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he says, looking away, shoulders tensing.

"Don't--" Eggsy starts, "Just, don't--okay? _Why_?"

Harry doesn't look at him. Just blinks and stares at the spot on the wall beside Eggsy's head. The younger man takes breath, tampering down the annoyed anger at Harry's silence, and tries to remember what Roxy said.

Depression.

Trauma.

Not to mention unresolved childhood abuse--

' _Be calm_.', he tells himself, biting his tongue, ' _Stay calm. Don't yell. Don't get upset._ '

"'Arry?" Eggsy tries again, straining to keep his voice level, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Harry blinks, and Eggsy can't help but notice that he looks a bit green. Nauseous. Afraid. Tired. Overwhelmed. Unhappy.

Deeply, _deeply_ unhappy.

The younger man sighs after a long moment, and rubs a hand down his face, taking a breath. He's _angry_. And hurt, but this can't be about him right now. And he accepts that.

His mother raised a gentleman, after all, even if he isn't quite up to some high class standards.

That's why he moves and gently takes Harry's hand, and is only marginally surprised when the man doesn't pull away, but instead lets Eggsy lead him. The younger man leads him to his bed, with a quiet, "You should sleep.", and waits until a mildly confused Harry Hart is settled before he kicks off his shoes, takes off his jacket and crawls up beside him. Harry looks at him with wide brown eyes in the dimness of the room as Eggsy pulls him to his chest and wraps his arms around him.

"Sleep." Eggsy says softly.

They have a lot to say and a lot to argue about, but for now, Eggsy feels Harry relax in his arms and he feels quietly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!
> 
> comments make me happy!!


	18. Chapter 18

He's not sure when he falls asleep, but he knows Eggsy is awake when he opens his eye. Harry's head is still on Eggsy's firm chest, and he can hear his heart's steady beating. It's oddly comforting. It gives him something to focus on. That doesn't change the fact that he's _still_ as confused as he was when he fell asleep. He also tries to stave off the warm feeling that makes a home in his stomach when he thinks about how _safe_ he feels here. With Eggsy's arms around him.

They're in the same position, and Harry can't figure out why the boy is holding him. Isn't he furious?

This isn't how Harry imagined this going. He expected a total fallout. Maybe someone getting stabbed. A nuclear bomb to go off? He doesn't know.

He didn't expect...this. He expected an explosion. Or something. Disaster. Fire and brimstone. The whole bit.

Especially after he failed to answer the boy's question. The sick feeling still turns his stomach, and all of his reasons for not telling Eggsy seem completely childish and idiotic, not to mention _reeking_ of insecurity and _weakness_. He has no idea what to say. He's an idiot. And he has no excuse. Not one that makes _sense_ to him anymore.

Harry's made a mess of everything. Like he _always_ does. Like he's done since he was a child.

And now he's fucked in seven different ways and just wants to disappear.

He's nothing like how he was. He's changed. And not for the better. He's _weaker_.

"You're thinkin' so loud even I can 'ear it." Eggsy says softly, and Harry feels himself tense as his nerves take over.

"I thought it would be a burden on you." Harry blurts out, closing his eye and kicking himself for saying the first thing that came to mind. He didn't mean to. He didn't mean to say _anything_ , but it's like now that the boy knows he's trying to explain himself when there's really no excuse. He has no defense. Not anymore. He keeps his head on Eggsy's chest, and tries to listen to his heartbeat and stave off the panic that is slowly spreading in his stomach in place of the warmth.

Harry doesn't want to look him in the eye.

Self-preservation? _Maybe_.

Cowardice? _More likely_.

Harry just wants to find a dark, quiet space where he can just fucking _melt_ out of existence because he is making a fucking mess of it--

"Ya really think that low of me?" the boy says slowly after a moment, and Harry can hear the hurt in his voice.

He opens his eye in shock because no that's the exact  _opposite_ of why he did it--

"No, Eggsy." Harry says, voice slightly panicked, "Certainly _not_. It's just...you're so _young_ , and have so much potential and so much to do in life without being tied down--"

"You think bein' with you would tie me down?" Eggsy asks, carefully, and Harry doesn't miss the fact that Eggsy has started rubbing his back in a subtle sign of comfort. It helps, a bit. "I think you're projectin', love. Those ain't _my_ thoughts, those are _yours_. You're 'ead's messin' with you, 'Arry. Tellin' you lies."

Harry has no idea what to say other than a quiet, "I thought I was doing the right thing. You don't need this on top of everything else."

He feels Eggsy let out a humorless snort, "Definitely projectin'. 'N I think you know that."

Harry fidgets. He doesn't know what to say.

That's been happening a lot lately. He's getting used to it. It bloody _awful_.

They're silent for a moment, and Harry has the embarrassing urge to cry and he doesn't exactly know why. He isn't sure if he'd ever been happy in life before, but he certainly isn't now, and there's nothing he can do to change it. He's not used to being helpless. He'd always had a plan. He'd always been sure of himself. So even when everything went to shit he'd at _least_ been able to make it tolerable. Even if he had no one or nothing else, he had Kingsman and he had himself, his mind and his abilities.

Now he has _none_ of that. His body isn't even _his_ anymore--and even that is damaged beyond repair--his mind is fractured and betraying him at every turn and he can't do the job he's clung to for years and years. His abilities have eroded to nothing, and he's about 98% sure he can't  _hold_ a gun, let alone _fire_ it. He can't even grasp the door handle on the first try. He hasn't even adjusted to his disability (and God, he's fucking  _disabled_ isn't he? He's just a useless old lump of flesh biding time until he dies). He can't even take off the bandage and look at the scarred, empty socket where his eye used to be. He can't face it. He can't even bear to _touch_ it. 

 _God_ , he's missing an _eye_. 

Every now and again it hits him like a train and the helplessness sets in, nestling deep in his bones and his mind. He used to be so sharp, but now his brain is filled with a thick fog that won't dissipate. He simultaneously feels like he's fading away and on the verge of exploding.

He's becoming everything he dislikes.  Weak. Unable. Stagnate. Helpless. Lazy.

He doesn't quite notice he's crying until he feels Eggsy startle under him, then he notices and sits up as quickly as he can in case the boy decides that Harry _is_ actually fucking mental and wants to get out while he can. Better get off of the boy's chest so he can high-tail it out of the door as soon as he can. After all, he knows that's what he expects. Eggsy will have had enough of him at some point, and he'll leave.

A part of him also knows that that fear is not so much Eggsy as it is his diseased brain lying to him. What is wrong with him? Why his his mind coming up with so many thoughts that upset him? For the _sole_ purpose of upsetting him? Why is that all it does now? Why isn't it _cooperating_ with him?

Deeper down, in a small part of his mind he knows Eggsy won't leave. Harry has fought him and argued with him and rejected him and yelled at him...hurt him. And for some reason the boy still came back. That's...terrifying.

If the boy _leaves_ it's terrifying and if he _stays_ it's terrifying.

Harry can't win.

He's too busy trying to get his breathing under control and wiping his face in embarrassment because _seriously he's a bloody fucking grown man he shouldn't be crying like a child--_

Harry feels Eggsy's warm hands wrap around his wrists and gently pry his fingers away from his face, and suddenly Eggsy's eyes fill his horribly limited vision.

"Breathe." he orders softly, and Harry does. 

Eggsy keeps his thumbs on the pulse point on his wrists, and he still feels like absolute shit but it grounds him. _Eggsy's presence grounds him_.

"Stop thinkin' so much." Eggsy says gently, eyes soft. 

"Can't."

"Then try."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"I think we both took some wrong turns, love." Eggsy says quietly, looking at their hands as he slowly twines their fingers together. Harry tries not to think too hard on the fact that his stomach flips when the boy calls him 'love' (and how incredibly fucking _childish_ it makes him feel), or that the boy has taken to calling him 'love' _at all_ (he has no idea what to make of _that_ ) _._

Eggsy looks at their hands for a few more moments as he bites his lip, thinking. 

"I'm...fuckin' angry you didn't tell me." Eggsy says, voice tight, and Harry's stomach turns to lead in an instant. He tries to disconnect their hands (and, _fuck_ \--he doesn't know--walk away? Run away? Again? Head to his office, open his laptop and buy a plane ticket to Argentina? He has no idea.) but Eggsy looks at him sharply and he freezes, feeling faintly like he's going to vomit. Why is he suddenly so submissive to the boy? When did it get to a place where he could stop Harry with a look? That Harry did everything he said with no complaint, simply trusting him without a thought?

"I ain't finished." Eggsy says, looking Harry in the eye, "But...I think I understand? A little bit? What your thoughts was."

Harry's heart hammers in his chest and his stomach turns.

Eggsy takes a breath, and tightens his grip on Harry's hands, looking down, "And I...wanna be there. For you. And our baby, yeah?"

He's dimly aware that the boy is still talking, but he can't seem to focus all of a sudden. It's all faded into background noise and his thoughts wander in confusing circles.

_Our baby._

At some point Harry seems to have forgot that the living thing growing inside him was in fact a  _baby_. He'd become so _detached_ he hadn't thought about the child inside him as a _child_ in ages. It'd been just a _thing_. Like his _body_ was just a thing. No different than furniture.

Basically, Harry realizes he hasn't really and _truly_ given a fuck about anything since before he took a bullet to the face, but it further proves what he already knew. He would make a _terrible_ parent. Who fucking forgets that their child is an _actual living being_ and not some parasite or problem they don't know how to solve? 

But it _is_ a living being. It's a _baby_. And it's gonna cry and smile and gurgle and scream and throw up. Most likely all over _him_.

Fear strikes him at the same time Eggsy moves a hand to cup his face and snaps him out of his wandering and frantic thoughts.

"'Arry. Ya drifted off, love." the boy says, and Harry blinks at him. The room snaps back into color, and he's present again.

"Apologies." he says, and he barely recognizes his own voice. He doesn't know how it's changed but it has. It's changed just like everything else and--

" _'Arry? Love?_ "

Harry startles again, and looks at the younger man.

"Apologies, again." he says, feeling like an _absolute fucking tit_.

Eggsy doesn't continue what he's saying, but instead looks at Harry so intently he starts to feel a bit panicked. Did he miss something important? Was Eggsy angry with him? Would he leave and never want to--

" 'As that been 'appenin' a lot?" Eggsy asks, and he has this strange look on his face that Harry feels like he should be able to pinpoint, but he draws a blank and can't seem to place it.

"What?"

"You. Losin' time and driftin' off?"

Harry blinks, mind moving through molasses to try and gauge where this conversation is headed.

The boy is still cradling his jaw.

"I...don't know." Harry says slowly, "I don't remember."

Eggsy nods, eyes softening, "That's a yes, then."

Ah, _worry_. That's what it is.

He's worrying him.

"I am fine though." Harry says after a moment, and it sounds like a lie even to _him_ , but he still tries for the boy's sake. The younger man looks at him with those searching eyes that make Harry feel like he can see every little thing Harry is thinking...

"I'm stayin' with you, 'Arry." he says slowly, squeezing his hand. The boy's brow furrows and his mouth turns down in a frown, concern making him look a bit older than his 24 years.

That makes him _supremely_ uncomfortable. The _concern_.

He shouldn't be worried about him. Eggsy should be out with people his own age. He should be going to parties or concerts or whatever it is he likes doing. With his friends. Of his age group. He should be dating other twenty-somethings. He should be having the time of his life while he's young. Not holding the hand of a pathetic man who's quickly becoming unglued, un-stitched and pulled apart. He should be far, far, far from Harry because Harry is--

' _troublesome_.' _he hears his mother scream as she inflicts the large purple bruise onto a soft, chubby pale cheek when Harry tracks mud in the house. He's five and doesn't quite understand what he's done wrong..._

Harry is--

' _difficult. pestiferous. bothersome. an absolute monster of a child._ ' _his father says, and a small Harry Hart backs away from the tall man's cold, looming shadow, feeling the inky black bruises blooming on his arms and torso after every passing second. Breathing is suddenly very hard and he doesn't know why. Something cracks in his chest every time he inhales and his entire body hurts. Just minutes before he'd happily presented his father with the small turtle he'd found outside by a rock near the rose bushes. He was excited, and wanted to show someone. He'd thought the little shelled creature was cute. Clearly father didn't agree..._

Harry is--

Harry is--

Harry is--

Is--

"'Arry?"

He startles violently and looks at the boy again, reality snapping into focus _too fast_ and everything popping into view and suddenly becoming  _far too bright_. He feels immediately overwhelmed and smothered, his hands are shaking and he's harshly biting his tongue in a childish act that he'd thought he'd outgrown long ago. Eggsy still has a hand on his cheek, and worry and alarm in his eyes. Harry wants to tell him to leave, but if he opens his mouth he knows he'll just start sobbing. Or hyperventilating? Or both?  _What's happening to his mind?_

"Let's get some food in you, love." Eggsy says, standing. He wonders if the older man hears the worry and sadness he can't quite keep out of his voice. Harry Hart isn't okay.

Not by a fucking long shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is everything i write so sad???????


	19. Chapter 19

"You take your vitamins today?" Eggsy calls, after he's deposited Harry at the table and wandered into the kitchen.

Harry blinks, then squints in concentration.

He...isn't sure. What day is it? How long has it been since Eggsy left?

His silence has obviously captured the boy's attention, because Harry looks up from where he's been inspecting the grain of the table while he tries to remember _this one simple fucking thing,_ to see the boy leaning in the kitchen doorway, looking at him _with those eyes_ \--

Harry looks at him for a moment, then defeat takes over and he directs his gaze back down at the table because _he really can't remember--_

He takes a silent shaky breath, and he wills himself to keep it together and not scream in frustration or throw something or tear his _fucking hair out--_

And then Harry is pulled out of his mind in a split second, the world sizzling and melting back into muted color when he feels a warm hand pressing vitamins into his palm. The warmth and contact immediately ground him, the world sharpens, and he tries not to do something foolish like kiss Eggsy when he kneels down next to Harry's chair with that soft look in his eyes and gently pushes the pills into Harry's hand, handing him a cup of water he seems to have conjured out of thin air.

Or maybe Harry is just becoming extremely unobservant.

Probably the latter.

He takes the pills with a quiet, "Thank you."

Harry drinks the cold water, and that seems to wake him a little bit, oddly enough, because suddenly he realizes he's _hungry_. And the feeling is so sudden and _absolute_ that he's momentarily stunned by it. It's not unlike lightening. He hasn't felt anything that pierced through the haze of confused apathy he's adopted in a while. So, how interesting. _Hunger_. Hm.

Eggsy takes the glass off of the table--condensation leaving a wet, perfectly shaped ring on the wood where Harry'd placed it--and flashes Harry a small, reassuring smile.

Harry isn't sure it makes him feel better--or _anything_ , but he appreciates the gesture. He _really_ does. He hopes the look in his eyes portrays that, because he can't find it in him to smile, or to muster fuck-all in the way of a reaction. It's no one's fault. It just _is_.

And that's the problem isn't it? He wasn't like this before. Things _mattered_. Nothing just... _was_. It meant something. Everything did. Now not much means _anything_.

It just...is.

He has no idea if what he's turning over in his mind even makes any bloody  _sense_. His thoughts are going in circles and unraveling.

Eggsy straightens and pauses to look at him, his expression tender and his eyes bright and searching, like he's trying to memorize Harry's face. So the older man moves because he won't let Eggsy submit himself to that form of self sabotage. He _is_ aware he's not exactly a delight to look at lately. He has one eye, he's not completely _blind_. 

And when Eggsy looks at him questioningly as he walks to the kitchen he simply says, "Breakfast."

But then he's standing in the middle of the kitchen (And good God why is his kitchen _yellow_? Why did he choose that? _Did_ he choose that? God, it's _bright_ ), and has no idea what he likes to eat. What did he eat before? He doesn't remember. What is usually eaten? 

His mind only supplies ' _tea_ '. 

Tea he can do. And if he fucks up the most he'll suffer is a burn. Or five. Simple.

Tea.

He can do that.

So he does. 

And then he's not a man making tea on a sunny morning, he's a routine. Disconnected. An ordered procedure. A series of steps put in place to get a task done.

  1. Go to stove.
  2. Make sure kettle has water.
  3. Turn on stove.
  4. Put kettle on stove.
  5. Find teacups. (No, not that cabinet. This one? No. This one? No. Where are the teacups?...Oh.)
  6. Find tea bags. (No, that's the spice rack. No, that's the fridge, why in the _hell_ would they be there? ....the counter-top? The counter-top.)
  7. Put bag in teacup. (Is this how he did it? Or did he put it in the pot? Did he strain it through as he poured the water into the teacup? Why are there so many different ways to make tea it's basically just leaf water.)
  8. Wait for water. (Stare at the pot until it boils. Because _that's_ not odd or unhealthy. You are completely sane, Harry Hart. _Completely_.) 
  9. Pour water.
  10. Burn self.
  11. Act like you _didn't_ burn self.
  12. Ignore the boy's concerned looks and incessant hovering. 
  13. Milk. (Does he take his tea with milk? He isn't sure.)
  14. Sugar. (Does he take his tea with sugar? He doesn't remember.)
  15. Get a bit frustrated.
  16. Don't bother with sugar _or_ milk.
  17. Seriously. Fuck it.
  18. Look down at teacup.
  19. Realize you don't even want tea.
  20. Drink tea anyway.
  21. Burn self.



"Can I 'elp ya make breakfast?" Eggsy asks--walking up to him with a smile and his hands in pockets of his tracksuit trousers--and Harry turns and looks at him. He'd almost forgotten he was there. His eyes are bright and Harry can't help but think he matches the happy yellow of the kitchen walls somehow. An odd thought, but it crosses his mind anyway. As odd thoughts tend to do nowadays.

"Much appreciated, Eggsy.", he hears himself say quietly, and he has no idea why he agrees. He isn't even really hungry. But there's something about how Eggsy moves around him,--keeping up a steady stream of commentary and conversation--that makes him engage in the situation and the space around him. He gets the eggs when Eggsy asks, and watches the bacon and tomato while it's on the stove-top so it doesn't burn. He hands the boy bowls and spoons and things from the spice rack. And he's doing more in the 30 minutes it takes to make breakfast with Eggsy than he's done in the span of a week when he was alone. 

And he feels himself brightening the tiniest bit when they move around each other to set the table, setting down spoons, forks, knives. He handles the ceramic bowls and plates, though it makes him slightly nervous.

He doesn't drop anything. Nothing shatters. The sky doesn't come crashing down.

Eggsy talks the entire time, and he figures the boy knows how soothing it is because he doesn't stop, slow down or pause, and for the life of him Harry cannot remember a _word_ he's saying by the time it's left his lips and evaporated in the air, but he listens anyway. Another routine.

  1. Listen.
  2. Smile.
  3. Listen.
  4. Listen.
  5. Blink.
  6. Listen.
  7. Blink.
  8. Smile.
  9. Listen.
  10. Blink.
  11. Smile.



And it isn't until the boy stands and starts gathering dishes that he realizes that Eggsy has been _distracting_ him with his voice, and in that distraction, has gotten Harry to eat all of the food he'd made for him. Harry sits there dumbfounded for a few seconds, mentally applauds the boy for his subtlety and then moves to help clean up.

"Nah, love." Eggsy says, materializing next to him and taking the plate from his hand, "Go sit down. I got it."

Harry opens his mouth to argue, then huffs, and decides it's not worth it. 

He plops on the couch (Since when does he ' _plop_ '? Gentlemen don't ' _plop_ '.), then childishly frustrated with himself, stands back up, then sits down like the adult he is.

For fuck's sake. 

He sits there and stares at the blank screen of the television before his thoughts kick in and spur him into acting like a human being. He becomes another routine.

  1. Find remote.
  2. Find 'power on' button on remote.
  3. Wonder why you even bought this particular remote, seeing as it's so hard to find the power button.
  4. Turn on television.
  5. Turn _down_ television.
  6. Find 'channel up' and 'channel down' buttons.
  7. Look at the remote.
  8. Keep trying to find them.
  9. Again, wonder why you bought this remote.
  10. Find it.
  11. Flip through channels.
  12. Realize you don't care.
  13. Watch anything.



When did he start thinking like this? In steps in order to remember how to do things? Or how to behave? How to react? Since when did he need a constant monologue in his head counting one, two, three through everything?

It strikes him that maybe he should be alarmed. He can't quite bother with it. Only _he_ could somehow manage to think both too much and not enough.

Harry zones out, his eyes on the television, and only comes back to himself when he feels Eggsy putting an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling Harry to lean on him. The comfort seems to seep through the fog, little pinpricks of light piercing the gray, and he appreciates it. He _clings_ to it. Harry closes his eye, and tries not to think.

~

Harry is gently nudged awake, the sensations of reality edging into the haze of sleep, sounds and smells further pushing him into consciousness, and before he can so much as _breathe_ Eggsy is brushing the stray curls from his forehead and softly murmuring something that sounds like, "'ow 'bout a bath, yeah?". Harry blinks, and he still has his head on Eggsy's chest, and finds himself reluctant to get up. But a bath sounds extremely pleasant, so he manages a sleepy nod and lets the younger man take his hand and lead him upstairs. 

He can't quite remember the process, (losing time has just become so _normal_ ) but when he finds himself in his large bathtub filled to the brim with warm, scented water, with his back to Eggsy's front, he isn't surprised. He's actually...extremely comfortable. And content. Peaceful. And something else he can't quite place or name.

Harry just knows that he only feels like same comfort multiplied tenfold when he feels a change in the current of the water, and feels Eggsy's hand stroking his stomach though the warm, sweetly scented bath. And it feels _good_.

His mind has stopped it's obsessive and cyclical patterns, at least for now, and all Harry really _feels_ is Eggsy surrounding him. 

It's an extremely pleasant change, and he _desperately_ wants it to last. And he feels the desire to stay in this moment forever intensify when Eggsy places a kiss at the back of his head, curls making themselves known now that his hair has somehow become dampened, and says, "You know, it's gonna be alright."

Harry says nothing. Because he really isn't sure.

But for now he's not thinking. And it's a small miracle, but he'll take what he can get. 

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not kidding guys. That's what depression is really like. You become a series of actions and you cant connect. I know it all too well.  
> Anyway, yay baths!!!
> 
> Comments make me smile!


	20. Chapter 20

And that's how it goes for-- _fuck_ , Harry doesn't quite remember--a few days.

Harry has no idea how many, but it seems to be enough time for him to get used to the routine Eggsy has set up for them, because one evening when Eggsy takes his hand and tells him he agreed to meet his friends for a pint a while ago and forgot but he ' _can stay 'Arry I can seem 'em another time if ya need me...',_ Harry _immediately_ feels overwhelmed by the change. Then he is annoyed with _himself_ , and basically shoves the boy out the front door.

_'Go, Eggsy.'_

_'I can stay 'Arry, it's fine.'_

_'I can manage one evening without you, you know.'_

And when he closes the front door on a protesting Eggsy, he waits for the young man on the other side of the door to walk away before he locks it and heads upstairs. He considers falling into bed, or...what does he even _like_ to do? 

He could...go for a walk. That could possibly be...nice.

It's still sunny enough that he can wear his sunglasses and not worry about the bandage, and once the thought enters his mind he can't quite shake it. So Harry takes a deep breath and gets dressed in one of his usual suits, and tries not to think too hard about what he's doing. If he does, he'll just go back to bed, and he's sure he _does_ need some fresh air.

Harry's mood also lifts a bit when it turns out that everything still fits him. For now.

When he looks in the mirror, sunglasses on and umbrella in hand, he feels almost normal. Like himself again.

Harry turns the doorknob, and steps out into the cool evening sunshine.

~

"Oi, Eggsy!"

He hears the familiar voice and he can't help the smile that spreads on his face when he sees Jamal and Ryan standing outside the pub, smiling in his direction as he walks towards the pair.

"Walk _faster_ , you wanker." Ryan yells, and Eggsy immediately gives him the middle finger, and they all dissolve into laughter.

He reaches them and immediately punches Ryan in the side and puts his arm around Jamal's shoulders, " _I'm_ only talkin' to ' _im_ tonight." Eggsy says, pointing to the Jamal, "Because you, are a dick." he finishes, laughing and pointing at Ryan as they all tumble inside.

And Eggsy takes a breath of the familiar air and he smiles wider because _it's been so long_.

They get their drinks, pick a table and Eggsy looks around at the building that has served as their hangout spot for the past few years.

 _Home_.

He has a lot of homes these days. Places where he feels safe, just being in their four walls. Just add this one to the list.

"You can finally hang out 'nd you're daydreamin'?" Jamal says, snapping his fingers in front of Eggsy's face, "Snap ou' of it, bruv."

 Eggsy snorts and slaps his hand away, grinning.

""N what have you been up to, then?" Jamal asks, taking a drink of his beer, eyebrows raised.

Eggsy takes a breath, sits back and puts his hands in his tracksuit trouser pockets, "Busy as _shit_ , bruv."

"Wha', makin' suits 'n shit?" Ryan asks, nudging Jamal and laughing.

Eggsy smiles and kicks him under the table, "Yeah _laugh_ , you dick'ead. Not like _you_ could do it. But nah, not _just_ that." 

"And wha' else?" Jamal asks suspiciously.

"No'fin you two nosy twats need to know about." Eggsy snorts, shrugging taking a sip of his beer.

"Nah," Ryan says, pointing at him, "Ya lying." 

"We know when you're shittin' us, bruv." Jamal smirks, "Out with it."

Eggsy snorts again and takes another sip of his beer. He was going to tell them anyway, so he figures me might as well. They have to know sometime. They're like his brothers. And he's going to share as much of his life with them as he can.

So he just says it.

"I--", he starts, trying to find the words, "'Arry's pregnant. It's mine."

Might as well get to the fucking point. They never mince words with each other, that's why they're so close, they're upfront. Or, they try to be.

Eggsy knows he can't tell them what he really does, and it kills him, but after V-day he told them about Harry because he was fucking heartbroken and needed to vent and commiserate over a few beers and bar fight or two. And then when Harry came back...well, of _course_ he told them that too. They're two of his best friends (the third being Roxy), and he _is_ allowed to have a life outside of Kingsman, he just can't be too...honest about what he does. So _yeah_ , he'd told his friends about Harry, complete with a picture he'd taken of the man when he thought he wasn't looking when they'd spent their 24 hours together. It was a fucking _nice_ picture. Harry, in his suit, umbrella in hand and only partially turned away, so his face was still visible in the shot.

Eggsy'd kept it, of course. Though he has the _real_ thing now, and doesn't need it as much.

Ryan's eyes widen and he basically shouts, "That fit, posh bloke?" 

Eggsy rolls his eyes, smirks and nods, taking another sip of his drink.

"Up the duff?" Jamal adds, eyebrows raised, "With _your_ hellspawn, bruv?" 

Eggsy makes an indignant noise, balls up a tissue, and throws it at him. Jamal is even too scandalized to block it, and it hits him on the shoulder then bounces off.

"Eggsy," Ryan says, leaning towards him across the table, face deadly serious, "that man is _well fit_ , and you _banged_ him. Is that wha' you're tellin' me?"

Eggsy shrugs and nods. He feels a slight curl of offense about how they're talking about Harry, but then he remembers that this is just how they _speak_. This is them just asking questions. He's spending too much time with the upper-class. He's losing touch. He needs to get down to his old neighborhood more. He doesn't want to be so far removed he doesn't recognize everything he used to know.

Jamal sits back and rubs a hand down his face in disbelief, "And how did _you_ get _him_?"

Eggsy looks at their expressions of shock and disbelief, "What are you two tryna say? I'm a _gentleman_." 

Ryan snorts, shakes his head and sits back, "Jesus." 

"'N ever since you two started datin' and bein' all gross with each other 'n shit,'" Eggsy says, gesturing between them, "I've been left out in the _dust_ , so _yeah_ , I got a fit, posh bloke. Fuck you _both_ , seriously.", he finishes, faking exaggerated anger. 

"We invite you along!" Ryan protests, looking at Jamal, who nods, "You tell us to fuck off!" 

"Well, I don't wanna 'ave to watch you two make out!" Eggsy smirks, throwing a wad of napkins at Ryan.

The conversation dissolves into a laughter fueled session of the three of them balling up napkins and throwing them at each other, until the barkeeper gives them a sharp look. They settle down and Jamal says, voice breathless from laughing, "Fuck, you're gonna be a _dad_."

Eggsy nods, eyebrows raised and smiling, "Yeah." 

Ryan takes another sip of his drink, "So 'ow's it feel?". He looks at Eggsy in genuine curiosity and he sees it. They're both _happy_ for him. _Really_ happy.

"It feels fucking, amazin'.", he says, "I'm excited and shittin' myself at the same time. I couldn't be happier, 'onestly."

"Fuckin' _aces_ , man.", Jamal says smiling wide, " _Congratulations_ , bruv. You're gonna be fuckin' amazin' at that parentin' stuff. Really."

Eggsy smiles, "You think so?" 

Ryan sits back and nods, "Yeah. You kept us alive for years. Cover'd for us 'n helped us out whenever we needed it 'n shit. A baby? No problem." 

Eggsy looks down because he knows he's smiling so hard it hurts. He didn't know they would say anything like that, but now that they've said it, he realizes _how much it matters to him_. That these two--who have known him longer than anyone other than his mum--, who have seen him at his lowest, most fucked up and his most rebellious, think he's going to be a good dad. 

Fuck.

"But mos' impor'antly," Jamal says, " _I'm_ gonna be a grea' _uncle_."

And that's when Eggsy looks up, sees his smug expression and laughs. 

"Fuck nah you won't." Ryan says, looking at his boyfriend, "You swear every other word." 

Jamal sits up and turns to him, his face so offended that Eggsy laughs harder, "So do you!" he wails, "You're worse than me!"

"Nah," Ryan says easily, "i can turn i' off. You can't." 

"'Nd _you_ smoke." Jamal counters accusingly, "Noone wants a baby aroun' _that_." 

They bicker at the table, and Eggsy laughs harder than he has in ages.

~ 

Harry ends up in a park. 

Ha knows he's wandered a good ways from his house, but he likes the cool air and the fact that he can _breathe_ out here. It's so much better than being confined to just four walls for days on end. 

He's turned into a _fucking_ recluse. _Shit_.

Harry feels like he hasn't been outside in _ages_.

"Mr. Hart?"

Hearing his name startles him, and he can hear it's familiar, but he can't quite place it.

Harry turns around and is faced with Eggsy's mother. He also tries not to turn right the fuck back around and go in the other direction.

 _Shit_. What the bloody, fucking _hell_ \-- 

"Hello.", he says, and he's surprised at the fact that he _doesn't_ sound like he's having a stroke. Amazing.

She looks better than when he'd last seen her. But then again that _was_ about 20 years ago. And he had just told her her husband had died. That _may_ have put a damper on their first interaction. Possibly.

Hm.

But now her hair is longer and curlier, her eyes are brighter and she looks _happy_. 

Good. At least _someone's_ life isn't currently falling apart.

 _Jesus_.

"Hello, how are you?", she asks, and he only realizes she's holding the hand of a young blonde girl when he feels a small hand pull on his sleeve, and before he can respond to Michelle he hears a small voice say, "Hallo!"

He freezes and looks down. He'd heard Eggsy talk about his little sister, and she seemed absolutely adorable from the stories alone, but Harry must admit shes even more endearing in person. She looks up at him with large blue eyes and blinks at him expectantly, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

"Oh," Harry says looking down at her, "Hello. You must be little miss Daisy." 

Michelle smiles at him, and Daisy laughs, jumping up and down and squealing, "Yes! I'm Daisy!" 

"Ah," he says, "I've heard quite a lot about you. Hello, my name is Harry. It is _wonderful_ to meet you." 

Daisy bounces on her feet, and Michelle taps her shoulder and says, "What do we do when we meet someone new, love?" 

The small girl looks up at her mother, then gasps, turning to Harry and extending a small hand.

He can't help the small laugh that bubbles out of him, and he bends down to shake the girl's hand, beaming when he sees how proud of herself she is.

"She's very excitable." Michelle laughs, once he's straightened.

Harry smiles, "She's lovely." 

Michelle smiles warmly at him once more before he says, "We have to go--got to get _this_ little monster" she says, pinching one of Daisy's cheeks while the girls squeals with laughter, "into the bath and into bed before it gets dark out. But we live around here, so I hope to see you around. We would love to have you over for dinner."  

"Sounds lovely." Harry says, and he's distracted because suddenly Daisy has attached herself to his legs. She hugs him tight, squeals, "Bye Harry!", and runs off toward the park exit, her mother trailing after her and calling, "See you soon!", behind her back.

Well, that wasn't the nuclear explosion it _could_ have been. That it _will_ be, when she finds out.

Harry decides to make his way home too, and on the way he remembers Daisy, and thinks maybe a child isn't the worst thing to happen to him.

~

He gets home before Eggsy (and wow, when did they become some domestic couple without him realizing?), and is _exhausted_. 

Harry wanders into the kitchen, and instead decides that he'd rather a bath. He's upstairs and in his robe when he hears the front door open (he'd given Eggsy the spare keys so no more lock-picking would be needed because he likes his locks ' _without scratches on them Eggsy, thank you_ '), and Eggsy call his name as he runs up the stairs two at a time. Harry sees no point in answering because as soon a he takes his next breath Eggsy is outside the bedroom door, looking at him. 

"Have fun?" Harry asks, and he hopes he doesn't sound as tired as he feels. He's barely keeping himself from yawning as it is. 

"Yeah." he smiles, leaning against the door-frame. Harry hadn't gotten around to putting his suit away, so the younger man sees it and looks at him in a silent question.

"Took a walk.", he says simply, suppressing another yawn and then Eggsy is kissing him. Harry can barely register what's happened until Eggsy pulls back, wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him flush against his body and smiling at him before saying, "I'm proud of you."

Harry recovers and feels his brow furrow, "It was a _walk_ , Eggsy. Not anything special. Though I did see your mother and sister. They're lovely." 

Eggsy blinks at him, smiling wider, "Well, first off, _yeah_ it is, 'cause I can tell you're tired all the time, and second, you met mum and Dais?" 

He seems extremely happy at this news, and he holds Harry tighter.

"Well _technically_ I met your mother _years_ ago--", Harry starts and cuts off with an indignant sound when Eggsy rolls his eyes and slaps his arse. 

"You know what I meant.", he says, and Harry looks at him innocently.

"Well, _anyway_ ," Harry says, looking at Eggsy pointedly, "They're lovely, your sister is startlingly enthusiastic about life and apparently, a hugger."

Eggsy looks so thrilled and Harry raises an eyebrow.

The younger man smiles softly, then looks at him for a moment, "Can I join you?", he asks, gesturing to the connecting bathroom and the tub.

Harry nods, and receives a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me happy!


	21. Chapter 21

And for a good stretch of time, he's okay. _Everything_ is okay. 

But then Eggsy has to go back on missions, and Harry is thrown for another loop. He has no idea why, he has to have known that Eggsy would have to go back at _some_ point. But that's not the only thing that has him looking at Eggsy in shock from across the table.

Harry blinks, " _What_?"

Eggsy looks at him, trying (and failing) to suppress a smile, "My mum's found a job, and she don't have no one to watch Dais. She mentioned that she seemed to like you when she met you in the park..."

Harry looks at him like he's lost his mind, "Liking me for the _three minutes_ she was in my presence is a lot different than her having to spend the _day_ with me, Eggsy. And I don't imagine there's anything in this house that could keep a child entertained."

"She has toys, and she's pretty much entertained by anything.", Eggsy replies, "She's no trouble--"

"I'm sure she isn't, that's not my concern." Harry says, "I can hardly remember to take my vitamins in the morning, how am I going to manage remembering to even feed her?"

Eggsy snorts, and looks at him in amusement, "Well, the great thing 'bout humans, 'Arry-- 'specially kids-- is that they'll tell you what they need. If she's hungry she'll just tell ya, trust me." 

"She'll be afraid of my bandage." Harry shrugs, and he tries not to think too hard about the injury, like he does every time it's brought up. He's sure if he does it'll just throw him into that dark place he was in not too long ago, and he knows he'll break down again at some point, but he'd like to delay it as much as possible.

Eggsy rolls his eyes, "She saw it already. Doesn't think anything of it. She's like two feet tall, 'Arry. She saw under your sunglasses."

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but he doesn't have anymore excuses. He can't even use the excuse of his poor emotional state, because lately he's been fine. The one thing depression could be useful for, and he ends up being at a high point. Fuck.

"Alright." he sighs, and glares at Eggsy when he smiles at him smugly. He has the childish urge to flick a piece of broccoli from his plate at him. He refrains.

"And when am I to expect this tiny visitor?" he asks, folding his arms.

"Tomorrow mornin'," Eggsy chirps, "Bright 'n early."

Harry will go to his grave denying the very ungentlemanly groan that he lets out in response, but Eggsy just snorts, kisses his forehead and moves to clear the dishes. Harry glares at his back before he gets up to assist him.

Well, at least he's not feeling like death warmed over anymore. Eggsy takes the dishes from him, wraps his arm around Harry's waist--pulling him in for a kiss--and he has to admit that the boy's smile makes him a bit less sour about the situation.

~

Harry then decides he's going to be as sour as he fucking wants to be when he's awakened by a suit-clad, smiling Eggsy at 6 am.

"Mornin', love." Eggsy smirks, and Harry glares at him (or he _tries_ , Eggsy's laugh informs him that it's not very effective, but then again, it's _6-fucking-am_.), still half asleep. "Mum'll be 'ere soon with Dais." he finishes, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple like that will make him okay with the _injustice_ of it all. 

"I resent you for this." Harry yawns, and Eggsy chuckles from the dresser across the room (and when did Eggsy move all his suits in? Why didn't Harry notice?).

"It ain't that bad.", Eggsy laughs, "Drama queen."

"First you impregnate me, now this. Cruel." Harry says dramatically, "When does the betrayal end?" 

"Never." Eggsy says smartly, kissing him again. 

That's the most Harry has acknowledged his pregnancy other than taking his vitamins every day, and he can pretty much feel Eggsy brightening like the bloody _sun_ from across the room. He just tries not to think about it. Any of it. If he thinks about his eye, the baby, Kingsman...he'll crumble again. So Harry does what he does best. 

Repress, repress, repress.

There's been a permanent metaphorical dark cloud over his head since the day he was born, and after a while he learned to either ignore it or use it to his advantage. But after being shot it became not only a cloud, but thunder, rain and lightning. But for now, it's back to just being a cloud. Something that hangs over him, but also something he can ignore until it starts thundering again.

And it _always_ starts thundering again.

~

They move around each other like they've always occupied the same house, bed, bathroom...

And _god_ , they're so easily domestic Harry could laugh, because it seems to have happened while he wasn't paying attention. Suddenly there were extra clothes in the dressers and closets, another toothbrush in the holder, another bottle of shampoo and aftershave on the bathroom counter. This house isn't just his anymore. It's _theirs_.

They've become a couple and he hasn't even noticed. It was so natural and _easy_.

It's nice to have something just easily fall into place without Harry having to think about until he gives himself a headache. He and Eggsy, they just...are. It's almost like there was no other possible outcome for either of them.

Harry grumbles and splashes water on his face, avoiding the bandage, and Eggsy spritzes himself with cologne. They share the bathroom mirror. It's second nature.

Harry pulls on his robe and yawns, and Eggsy chooses a tie from the same closet. Harry goes to the kitchen to make some tea, and he sets out two teacups while Eggsy gets the tea leaves out of the cabinet.

The doorbell rings, and Harry gets it because Eggsy is busying himself with retrieving the sugar and milk.

It's like they've been doing this all their lives.

Harry opens the door to a dark, early morning sky, cool wind and a sheepish looking (but smiling) Michelle Unwin, holding the little girl who is looking around in sleepy confusion. Harry can relate.

"Harry," Michelle says, "good morning! Thanks so much for this. I _really_ can't thank you enough. Eggsy said you wouldn't mind--" 

"It's quite alright. It's really no bother." he says, returning her smile. As startlingly sudden and spontaneous as the job thrust up him is, he finds that he _really_ doesn't want the woman to worry about being intrusive. 

Michelle gives him a grateful look, and he finds himself happy to help her. At least he's useful to _someone_.

"Harry!" Daisy says sleepily, turning to look at him, smiling wide.

"Good morning miss Daisy." he answers, taking the little blonde girl when Michelle hands her over. Suddenly he has a child in his arms, a baby bag on his shoulder, and Eggsy yelling a greeting to his mother from behind him. With a last thank you to Harry and one last kiss for Daisy and Eggsy, Michelle is gone, the door is closed and Harry hears a small, sleepy voice asking, "This is your house?"

He blinks, then looks at the girl, "Yes. It is."

"Pretty." she yawns, leaning her head on Harry's shoulder.

"Well, thank you.", he answers, dropping Daisy's bag on the couch and carrying her to the kitchen where her brother is currently pouring tea. Harry stands there, wondering what he has that a child would like to eat when he catches Eggsy looking at him with an expression he can't place. It makes his face heat up the tiniest bit, and Harry sifts Daisy in his arms, holding her more comfortably. The look on Eggsy's face intensifies.

It looks like...possessiveness?

"Eggsy." Daisy smiles, looking at him. The moment breaks, and then Eggsy is greeting, kissing and tickling the girl as she wiggles in laughter in Harry's arms. By the time the younger man pulls away from his sister to bring the tea to the table, Daisy is wide awake and grinning.

"Now you've done it." Harry sighs, "She's really  _awake_ now. Aren't you, Daisy?"

"Yeah!" she squeals, throwing her arms in the air.

"Now  _I'm_ not getting back to sleep." Harry says in a wilting tone as he puts the girl on the couch. He's not surprised when she immediately gets up and starts exploring her new surroundings while he sips at his tea, trying to wake up. He watches her in faint (and very, _very_ tired) amusement until Eggsy gets up from the table, kisses him with a whisper of "You'll do great.", picks Daisy up and gives her a big exaggerated kiss on the cheek while she squeals, tells her to be good, gives Harry a flirty wink, and is out the door. 

Harry takes a breath. He's on his own now.

And he has no idea what to do. Daisy takes off her small coat, walks around, looking and touching everything while Harry yawns and watches until the little girl walks up to him. She gives him a considering look before she asks, "Sleepy?"

Harry smiles, "A little bit. It's okay, though. Would you like some breakfast?" 

Big blue eyes widen and she nods enthusiastically. 

"Alright then." Harry says, and he turns to walk to the kitchen, but not before he feels a small hand slip into his. He looks down and Daisy is blinking up at him expectantly.

Oh, he gets it now.

"Would you like to help?" he asks, and her eyes light up as she says, "Please!"

"Of course. What would you like?"

She thinks, her face scrunching up like it's the most important decision she'll ever make.

Jesus, the child is _adorable_.

"Toast?" she asks, looking up at him. 

Harry smiles, "We can definitely manage that."

Two minutes later Harry directs Daisy in putting the bread into the toaster--the girl standing on a chair he brought in from the dining room so she can reach the counter-- and Harry's heart warms when she squeals in delight and looks so proud of herself when she presses the lever down to start the device.

(Secretly Harry helped her, pressing the lever down from her other side when she had trouble with it, but thankfully she doesn't seem to notice.)

Once she's satisfied with her work in starting the toast, she turns and looks at him before she says, "Juice?"

"We can certainly manage that too." Harry says, and he lifts her off the chair and puts her back on the ground, watching as she runs to the fridge.

(He secretly helps her with that too, reaching over her head and pulling it open with a finger when he sees her having trouble with it. Thankfully she doesn't notice that either, and instead beams at him and proudly says "Did you see?", to which Harry replies "Yes I did! You're a very big girl, Daisy. Excellent job.")

The toast pops up and he helps her butter it and is hardly surprised when she gets it all over her fingers, and once they get to the table--Harry carrying the plate, cup and juice while Daisy bounces beside him--lets her think she poured the juice all by herself (he stood behind her and held the carton steady and quickly moved when she looked at him with a grin, proud of herself yet again. Harry just said, "Wonderful, Daisy." and put the carton back in the refrigerator.)

By 7:15 am Daisy is happily munching on toast, looking around his dining room with interest, while doing a spectacular job of getting her breakfast all over her face. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen anything so endearing in his life.

She finishes (and promptly spills the remainder of the juice with wide eyes and a small, scandalized " _Uh-oh_." that makes Harry laugh as he reaches for the nearest dish towel), and he places her in front of the television and by _some_ deity's mercy, _actually_ finds a cartoon channel.

Harry takes a seat on the couch as well, and Daisy immediately cuddles into his side, yawning. Harry realizes that he's probably smiled more in the short time Daisy has taken over his home than he probably has his entire life.

An exaggeration, yes. But it's _not_ an exaggeration that he looks down not _ten_ _minutes_ later and find Daisy fast asleep. Child-like energy aside, it _is_ still early, so he gathers her in his arms and takes her upstairs and to the guest room, tucking her in and closing the door. He decides to go lie down himself. Not sleep, because he needs to be awake in case Daisy wakes up, but maybe just...rest his eyes.

Yes. That's a good idea.

~

Harry wakes up to a small hand patting his face and giggling, and when he opens his eyes he gets an eyeful blonde hair.

"Wake up, Harry!" she whispers in that way small children do that they might as well not be whispering at all. 

"I'm awake, Daisy." he answers sitting up and blinking the last foggy bits of sleep away, "Have you been awake long?"

Daisy bounces on his bed and says, "No. Just woke up."

Oh, good. He looks at her, then is about to ask how she even got onto the bed until his eyes land on the short stack of thick books she apparently took from the small bookcase next to his night-table.

"Did _you_ do that?" he asks, pointing to the makeshift stool the girl has assembled. He knows no one else could have done it, but he's still impressed and confused _because are all small children this inventive?_

She nods, "Couldn't reach." 

Harry blinks dumbly. Wow. 

Daisy immediately moves on. "Can we play a game?" she asks, bouncing happily.

"Of course," Harry answers, picking her up off the bed and carrying her downstairs, "What kind of game?"

"In my backpack."

He puts her down and she makes her way to her bag, pulling out a deck of comically large cards (the kind _obviously_ made for young children) and takes Harry's hand, pulling him to sit down with her on the carpet next to the coffee table.

He stays quiet and watches the small girl set up the cards with an incredibly serious and focused look of concentration on her face that makes him huff a quiet laugh. Children put such importance into the smallest things. It's quite adorable.

When she's satisfied with the rows she's put the cards in, she sits down and looks at Harry incredibly seriously. Like this is the single most important thing he'll ever do. He suppresses another laugh and schools his face into an equally serious expression, showing her that he's taking the game just as seriously as she is. This is _very_ important business. She looks at him and nods in determination like a girl on a mission.

"Okay," she says eagerly, eyes wide, "This is how you play." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww Daisy...
> 
> Harry isn't as bad with kids as he thinks ^_^


	22. Chapter 22

They play for about an hour (it turns out to be a simple memorization and matching game, and Harry lets Daisy win most of them, smiling at the child's enthusiastic clapping while Harry fakes disappointment at yet another defeat), and then Daisy looks at him, squints her eyes and bites her lip before she says, "Lunch?"

"What would you like?" Harry asks, helping her gather the cards and putting them back in her box and backpack for her while she bites her lips and thinks.

"Sammwich?" she asks, lifting her arms toward him and looking at Harry expectantly, and he recognizes the gesture as the universal child-signal for wanting to be picked up. He does so without a thought, settling her on his hip (taking extra care so that her leg doesn't kick his stomach, even though he refuses to acknowledge the precaution) and smiling softly when he feels small hands in his hair accompanied by Daisy giggling, "Curly!"

His hair is getting long. He should really get it cut. His curls are starting to make themselves known.

Harry carries her into the kitchen and moves to place her on the counter and start gathering ingredients, but Daisy doesn't make any move to let go of him, so he ends up toting her around the kitchen as he takes the bread out of the cupboard and retrieves a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

"What kind of sandwich would you like?" he asks the girl in his arms and she leans her head on his shoulder before she says, "Jam and peanut."

"Ah, peanut butter and jam." he confirms, feeling her nod.

He tries putting her down several times, but she clings to him and he doesn't have the heart to pry her off. He manages to make her lunch with one hand, cradling her as she rests on him before he carries her and the plate to the table, and she finally detaches from him and happily takes a bite, while also managing to get jam on her face. He wipes her cheek gently with a handkerchief, and she giggles.

"Would you like some more juice?" he asks, walking back into the kitchen to clean up.

"Yes pleathe!" she says around a mouthful of bread.

He delivers the cup to her (plastic this time, after the spill this morning) and she smiles wide at him, giving him a full view of her mouthful of half chewed sandwich. He smiles and cleans up the mess in the kitchen, looking on fondly when she toddles in holding the plate and looking at the sink in determination. She so small she can't even  _hope_ to reach, but she doesn't turn to Harry for help. Daisy puts the plate on the ground next to her, and Harry watches silently just to see what she'll do. He'll interfere if she runs of the risk of harming herself, but until then Harry doesn't see the problem with letting the child exercise her problem solving skills. So he leans against the counter and watches as her face scrunches up in thought, before she opens the cupboard under the sink, looks at the contents, pulls out the large toolbox that resides in it, and steps onto it. She makes a disappointed face. Still not tall enough. Harry tries to hide a smile.

Daisy steps down and looks in the cupboard again, and Harry watches--extremely impressed--as she pulls out the large plastic box of dish soap, puts it on the toolbox, retrieves the plate from where she placed it on the ground, steps on the toolbox, then the dish soap box, and happily shoves the plate in the sink.

Then she puts everything back where she found it, pushes the cupboard closed and grins at Harry.

"Do you always do that?" he asks, and she wiggles her button nose before she wipes at it and pulls at her frilly purple shirt in thought.

"Have to. Too Small. Can't reach." she answers.

"You're very, _very_ smart, Daisy." Harry says fondly, and she grins wider.

"Really?" she asks, eyes wide.

Harry smiles as she walks toward him and lifts her arms, silently asking to be lifted, "Yes. _Really_. You're _incredibly_ smart. The _smartest_."

She giggles and leans her head on his shoulder while he walks her back to the living room, and Harry feels her wrap a small arm around his neck, and then he realizes she's _hugging_ him.

His heart warms further. 

"What would you like to do now?" he asks, and he feels her shift in his arms.

"Mmmm...story?" Daisy asks, and he nods.

"Do you have one in mind?"

"My backpack!"

And again he puts her down and she makes her way to her bag, clumsily pulling a brightly colored book out and walking over to Harry, who has taken a seat on the couch. Daisy climbs next to him and shoves herself under his arm, pushing the book in his face, and grinning. Harry takes it from her, turns it over and observes the cover. He then looks down at the blond head nestled into his side. Daisy has brought her knees to her chest and she's curled into him, and Harry can't help but think she's the most adorable little thing in the world. He opens the book, turns to the title page and starts to read.

"A Bear Called Paddington...", he starts.

~

After the story, Daisy talks him into playing a few more rounds of their card game (okay, _more_ than a few, he finds he can't say no to her. It's _not_ his fault.) and by the time she has decided she's had enough, it's 5 pm and she's yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"Alright then," Harry says, "nap time."

"Don wan'a nap." she says sleepily.

"Very well." he says, "How about some cartoons, then?" 

She smiles sleepily, and he sets her up on the couch--and just like he'd planned--she falls asleep in five minutes, curled up and _completely_ unconscious.

"As I said." he smirks, "Nap time."

He fetches a blanket and pillow for her, tucks her in (turning her into something like a small human burrito), and settles in the armchair across from the couch. Harry looks at the small girl--fast asleep without a care in the world--and opens a book. 

~ 

Daisy stirs an hour later, scrunching her nose and yawning, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"Ha'ry?" she says through a yawn.

"Hello Daisy." he says softly, putting down the volume and walking over to her, "Had a nice nap, I hope." 

She yawns and nods, reaching her arms toward him. Harry smiles and picks her up, settling her on his hip as she leans her head on his shoulder and wraps her arm around his neck again, her hair tickling the side of his face. Harry somehow can tell that she still seems very tired, so he hugs her close and sways with the tired little girl while she dozes on him.

And that's how Eggsy finds him, holding Daisy and swaying around the room, rocking her to sleep.

The younger man stops, taking in the scene before him. Eggsy's suit is slightly rumpled--a telltale sign that Merlin sent him on a short, local mission--and he has that odd look on his face from this morning. Harry blinks, but doesnt falter in his movements. It's soothing the small child, and he doesn't want to disturb her peaceful dosing. So he and Eggsy look at each other over Daisy's head.

The look on Eggsy's face intensifies as he walks over and kisses him, his eyes hungry.

Harry's a tiny bit...lost to say the least.

"Mum'll be here to get Daisy soon." the younger man says, voice husky, and eyes raking over Harry's body. He would ask if the boy's okay, but then there's a knock, and Eggsy turns and walks over to get his little sister's backpack while Harry opens the door with Daisy in his arms.  

"Hello, Harry." the blonde woman smiles, then Michelle sees her daughter--sleepy and rested on him--and lets out a soft laugh.

"Good Evening, Michelle." he says pleasantly, moving to shift Daisy into her arms. The child stirs and opens her eyes, looking at Harry. He supposes she realizes she's being taken home because she whimpers, "Harry!" suddenly looking like she's going to cry. Daisy twists in her mother's arms and reaches for him, eyes wet and bottom lip trembling. Michelle smirks and moves closer to the man in the doorway so that the little girl can wrap her arms around his neck in a teary hug. He rubs her back and Michelle giggles when Daisy tearfully says, "Don't wanna leave. Wanna stay and play with Harry."

Harry laughs lightly, and Daisy releases him and rubs her teary eyes. Michelle looks at him, and he knows exactly what she's going to say because she has that slightly embarrassed, sheepish look on her face, so he saves her the discomfort and looks at Daisy and says, "No worries. I'll see you tomorrow, miss Daisy. Alright?"

Michelle looks relieved and smiles, mouthing 'thank you' at Harry and looking grateful while Daisy sniffles.

"Don't cry, Daisy. I'll see you tomorrow. I promise. And we'll play more games and read more books." 

That makes her brighten a bit and she sniffles and nods, her face splotchy and red as she rubs her eyes and says, "'Kay. Bye Harry."

"Goodbye, Daisy." he smiles as Eggsy hands his mother Daisy's backpack. Michelle gives Eggsy a kiss, and takes Harry's hand with a reverent "Thank you so much, Harry." to which he assures her _it's no bother, really, Daisy is lovely._  

And then they're walking to their cab, waiting on the curb (and Harry notices it's a Kingsman cab that Eggsy most likely uses to take his mother and sister wherever they need to be. Which is not unlike him. If he can protect them at any turn, why wouldn't he?)--Daisy waving from over Michelle's shoulder, and Harry returning the gesture--then they're gone. 

Eggsy shuts the door and Harry immediately turns to look him over, worry taking over as he frets over the younger man and searches for any injuries until Eggsy surges forward and kisses him breathless, biting at his lips and drawing Harry in deep before leading him up the stairs and to their bedroom (and God, it's _their_ bedroom now, isn't it?). Harry is...confused to say the least.

"Eggsy," he asks, as the younger man pulls him across the room, "are you alright? You've been acting strangely since this morning--"  

 Oh. Then he's being kissed again. And now Eggsy is peeling off his jacket with that hungry look in his eyes before he's pulling Harry to him, holding him around the waist and kissing him deeply. Harry almost gives in, almost lets his mind empty and just be filled with _eggsyeggsyeggsyeggsy_ because Eggsy always feels so _good_ , but he still wants an answer before he gets too distracted. Because if there's something _wrong_ with Eggsy he needs to know so he can--

"You," the younger man starts, panting between wet kisses, "are so good with 'er." 

Harry's confusion is almost entirely forgotten when Eggsy moves lips to his neck his hands roaming Harry's body, groping his arse and grinding against him, "You are going to be so good with our baby." he continues, and Harry can only distantly hear what he's saying because he's being _pressed into the mattress and undressed and touched and it feels so good-_ -

He also being kissed--Eggsy's tongue hungrily licking at his, _tasting_ him--and Harry can only makes desperate sounds when Eggsy moves to softly bite at his collarbone while he quickly pulls off his own shirt--trousers and pants following shortly after. 

Harry, for the most part, has been successful in ignoring the slight swell of his stomach, but then their naked bodies are slotting together as Eggsy pins him to the mattress, and the younger man's hands run over his slightly rounded belly as he makes a possessive, gutteral sound that makes Harry's face color and arousal course through his body. Something about the way Eggsy is looking at him, all dark and hungry, makes him want to just _cling_ to him--

"You look so _fuckin' good_ pregnant, 'Arry." Eggsy growls as he kisses his neck, massaging his stomach gently, "Fuck, I wish you could _see_ yourself." 

Harry doesn't respond, because he really _can't_ respond. Harry can't manage much more than whimpers and gasps at this point. He's also about 99% sure it's the pregnancy hormones that are making him even more receptive, desperate and _needy_ for Eggsy's touch, and seeing as this is the first day that they have been apart for more than ten minutes, he falls apart when Eggsy possessively runs hot hands over his skin, a finger circling his hole as he moves to kiss his slightly rounded middle, looking up at Harry with that greedy expression that makes him run hot.  

"Fuckin' _beautiful_ , 'Arry." Eggsy drawls, voice deep as he kisses Harry's stomach again and his lubed (and when did Eggsy get the lubricant? Harry is too distracted to think further on the subject) finger pushes into him, the feeling of something breaching the tight ring of muscle making him gasp. He clutches the bed sheets and opens his mouth obediently when Eggsy kisses him again, biting at Harry's lips and slowly opening him up with slick fingers as Harry makes those filthy sounds that prompt the younger man to clutch him tighter and kiss him deeper. He just needs Eggsy everywhere and _touching him-_ -

"You're _mine_." he groans into Harry's panting mouth, easing another wet finger into him and grinding down on the writhing body body beneath his. Harry can only wrap his arms around Eggsy's neck, whimpering in response.

Eggsy opens him so _carefully_ and kisses him so _deeply_ and holds him so _tightly_ he feels like he's on fire, and it only intensifies when Eggsy removes his fingers, and leans over Harry--one muscled arm by his head, kissing him breathless, and he feels the first burn of pleasure and desperation when Eggsy's cock brushes against his opening, wet and warm. Harry can only gasp a pathetic ' _please_ ' against Eggsy's lips before he's being held tightly and breached, the man above him slowly filling him with a groan before he bottoms out. Harry clutches him closer, crying out when he's suddenly filled and so _full_ , arching into the body pinning him, his stomach pressing against the body above his. He's a mess when Eggsy starts rocking into him, gripping Harry's body tightly and grunting because he's so _fucking tight, hot and wet--_

" _Mine. Mine. Mine._ " the younger man chants, growling his claim against his skin, pressing fingerprint shaped bruises into his hips as Harry cries out with each stab of Eggsy's cock against his prostate, trailing his nails down his back. It's the most delicious sound Eggsy's ever heard, Harry falling apart because of him.

Harry comes all over his stomach with a sob, and Eggsy drives himself into Harry's overstimulated body a few more times before he wraps his arm tighter around the man's waist and comes with a grunt, hot and sticky inside him. He pulls out slowly, and looks at the man below him, all kiss-bitten, swollen lips, messy, curly hair, red cheeks and round stomach with Eggsy's come dripping out of him.

He's hit again with the realization that Harry is _carrying his child_. And fuck, he's the most beautiful, sexy and tempting thing Eggsy's ever seen, laying under him all naked, pregnant, sated, blushing, panting and _so_ _fuckin'_   _pretty_.

"Fuckin' _gorgeous_ , 'Arry." he whispers, pressing another kiss to those swollen, red lips. 


	23. Chapter 23

Harry wakes up at 4:13 am.

He's not sure when he'd fallen asleep, but he can surmise that it was probably immediately after he and Eggsy had...

The point is, he only has his robe on (barely), and he feels Eggsy's come dried between his thighs, and Eggsy--in the same state of undress--has his arm wrapped around Harry's middle rather possessively. He tries to ignore how much he ~~loves~~ ~~craves~~ ~~cherishes~~ _likes_ it, and pushes the thought out of his mind as he slowly untangles himself from the younger man--who makes an extremely unhappy sound but stays asleep--and feels his way around the dark room to get to the connecting bathroom. At some point his eye catches the view outside the large windows of the room, and Harry takes in the grey skies of London that cast a light blue hue over everything. Harry brightens a bit. He's always liked grey weather. There's something calm yet...unpredictable about it. It could be calm and grey all day. or it could be a hurricane, or a violent rainstorm.

See? Unpredictable.

He appreciates that.

Harry runs his hand along the night-table...dresser...wall...wall...more wall... _knob_.

He closes the door, turns on the shower and hopes he doesn't wake up the man still resting in bed. Everything sounds so much louder in the dark. The water pours out of the shower-head...

And then for some reason he just _stands_ there, robe on, the shower running. The blurry edges of his vision are the tell-tale sign that he's completely zoned out, and he's not _really_ seeing the white tiled wall of the shower he's facing. Blinking doesn't clear his vision, or bring his consciousness back to the surface, and he quickly accepts what's happening because it feels... _nice_ , in an odd way. To be alive but not necessarily rooted in the present. When it ends he blinks and shakes the last clinging strings of his odd episode from his mind. He wonders if he should be concerned.

Harry chooses not to think about it. But he ends up face to face with _another_ thing he's been trying not to think about. 

His stomach is obviously rounded, and it seems to have happened overnight. Maybe he wasn't paying attention (there is no ' _maybe_ '...he knows that's it), but the hard truth hits him square in the face, so he ends up standing there for a pitiful amount of time, his hands grasping his robe as if he's about to take it off.

Harry isn't very well versed in mental well-being. He's not really even well versed in _physical_ well-being (when he was in the field and on missions his main objective was ' _don't fucking get shot you fucking wanker_ ', which of course, he failed.). And his job was the kind that asks you to constantly put yourself on the line, with no guarantee you'll make it home (if you even bother to  _have_ one, seeing as on any given day you are in some random part of the world for god knows how long). Therapy had always been available for Kingsman agents, even recommended, but Harry had decided when he was 23 and knighted the new Galahad that he didn't need it (though at the time his words were more along the lines of "Fuck that".).

But he wonders if maybe he should've--

Never mind.

He yanks the robe off ans steps into the shower.

He notices two things. One, is the fact that his hair seems fuller and longer then he remembers (and wow, he really has not been paying attention to anything lately), to the point that when the water hits runs through it it rests on his neck in wavy tendrils. Two, is--again--what he's been avoiding. His stomach isn't big yet, but it's _noticeably_ round, and if someone saw they would _know_ he was pregnant. He...doesn't know how to feel. Or if he feels _anything_ about the child at all. Something like total apathy has settled in him, and he kind of wishes he was still extremely upset about it. It's better than running a hand over his middle and not being able to muster much of a reaction at all. He supposes the fact that he has also been so absentminded to the day to day changes he's made is partially to blame. Now that he finally allows himself to think about it, he's been eating more (though irregularly), and opting to stay off his feet as much as possible.

He puts a hand on his stomach and takes a breath. At least Eggsy is excited. They haven't talked about the child and their future since that morning Harry told him why he hid it from him, but now he's getting...anxious? Uneasy? He's not sure. But he wonders when they're going to go about setting up a nursery or... _fuck_ , has he even told his mother? Harry _really_ doesn't want to be there when he does. Michelle likes him _now_ , but after she knows she definitely won't.

She might _kill_ him.

He might _let_ her.

Anyway, the thing will need a name. And they'll need to arrange who is raising it because clearly _Harry_ isn't fit to. Maybe Eggsy will take the child and leave. He wouldn't be surprised. He's sure Eggsy meant he would stay for as long as he was pregnant. Harry doesn't expect any more. Also he might be due for a doctor's appointment, though he really isn't sure (Merlin is the type to send a shit ton of emails  and messages so that when he hunts you down and drags you into the medbay by your ear you have no excuse because _'for fucks sake Harry! 35 emails. I called you 15 times!'._ He'd made the mistake of heading home and collapsing into bed with a fresh bullet wound once. After having experienced this once with Merlin, he really would not like a repeat, thanks.). He hasn't checked his glasses feed or computer or anything in...how long? How long has it been? What month is it? He'd known, but he's...forgotten?

Fucking hell.

He has no idea where his life is going and he doesn't even really have any strong thoughts on the matter. He doesn't wish he wasn't pregnant anymore, but he also isn't happy about it. He has no opinion. He doesn't wish he had his other eye, but he's not thrilled he doesn't have it. Again, no opinion. He doesn't wish he hadn't gotten shot. Also isn't pleased that he did.

Maybe he's just tired. Maybe he just needs to sleep a bit more. Other than that he has no answers.

He's getting used to that, having no answers.

He realizes he's been rubbing his stomach, and he doesn't know if he's trying to soothe himself or...

Instead of ripping his hand away like he's done in the past, he just mentally shrugs and continues. What the fuck does it matter. How does it change any fucking cosmic shift in the universe whether he can be alright with touching his baby bump or not.

It doesn't fucking _matter_. Nothing does.

But he guesses he'll just keep going until he dies or something.

~

By the time he gets out of the shower, he's scrubbed every inch of himself clean, and exits the bathroom in his robe to find Eggsy sitting up in bed, hair in complete disarray and blinking sleepily.

"Oh, there you are," he yawns, "I was 'bout to go lookin' for you."

Harry shrugs, "Just a shower." 

The boy slowly smiles at him before reaching out a hand, "Come 'ere, love."  

Harry squints at him suspiciously.

"Just come 'ere." Eggsy laughs, and so Harry does.

The younger man pulls him on the bed, pulls him in for a kiss, and Harry can feel his robe being pulled back so Eggsy can place his hand on his stomach.

Well, at least it feels nice when Eggsy does it. 

"You're gorgeous." he murmurs, voice low, "So fucking gorgeous for me...." 

Harry doesn't answer, just accepts his hungry kisses and soaks up Eggsy's touch and affection like the pitiful thing he knows he is. 

By the time they part Harry knows he's probably flushed, and his lips feel as red and kiss-bitten as he knows they are, which only causes Eggsy to rake his eyes down his body--his hands still on Harry's rounded stomach--as he gets that dark, feral and hungry look in his eyes again, and it would almost be frightening if Harry didn't know him.

" _Beautiful_." he growls, claiming his mouth, " _So beautiful and you're mine. And this baby's mine. You both are mine._ "

Harry spends the next hour or so on his back.

And by the time Harry has to start making his first cup of tea and Eggsy is choosing his suit for the day, Harry has had to shower again.

~

"Harry!"

"Hello Daisy." he smiles at the sleepy but happy girl in Michelle's arms, "See? I told you I'd see you tomorrow." 

The girl beams and Michelle laughs lightly, "She wouldn't stop talking about you. 'Harry read Paddington to me' and 'Harry called me smart'."

He smiles a tad wider because Michelle is so thoroughly _amused_ by her daughter. She sobers though, and looks at him, eyes soft, "But seriously...Thank you Harry. This has been a huge load off my shoulders so just--thank you."

"Michelle." he replies, looking the woman in the eye, "It's no bother. No need to keep thanking me. I'm happy to help, and Daisy is lovely."

She smiles and it reaches her eyes, then they're both distracted because Daisy--who seems to have started feeling ignored--reaches for Harry (complete with grabby hand motions) and pouts.

"Alright, alright, miss bossy." Michelle laughs, handing the girl to Harry and passing along her bag as well, "I should be off. Daisy, be good, mummy loves you." she says, kissing the girl's cheek, "And Harry, just once more, thank you."

"Please let that _actually_ be the last one." he smiles, and she giggles and walks to the Kingsman cab Eggsy has secured as her private hired car.

"Bye mummy!" Daisy waves, and Michelle looks back to blow the girl a kiss before she's in the car and off.

Harry closes the door and walks into the living room with Daisy in his arms, puts her on the couch takes her coat to hang up on the rack and stands by the door and watches in amusement as Eggsy tickles his sister until she's red in the face. And as the girl recovers from her laughing fit on the couch Eggsy takes one last sip of his tea, kisses Harry (and sneaks a grab at his arse, chuckling when Harry huffs at him), then is gone.

Daisy bounces over to him and tugs at his pants leg before she smiles and says, "Breakfast?" 

Harry smiles down at her, "Of course, and what will it be today?" 

The girl raises her arms and reaches for him, and he picks her up before she says, "Eggs?" 

"We can certainly manage that." he says, huffing a small laugh.

~

"Go for a walk?" Daisy asks at around 3 pm, looking up from her drawing and crayons and at Harry, who--at Daisy's insistence--is sitting across from her--on the floor with the small child--as she draws, leaning on the coffee table.

"A walk?" Harry repeats, and he has no idea why he does, seeing as he heard her clearly the first time.

She nods happily, blonde, braided pigtails bouncing.

He wants to say no, he really does. He isn't sure he's mentally prepared for the outside world today, but the girl looks so excited that he knows he'd feel fucking _wretched_ if he did. So he hears himself saying, "Well, alright." 

So he tells her to stay where she is and that he'll be back in a short while, and she beams and nods, going back to her drawing.

And that's how he finds himself standing in the mirror, adjusting his tie and grateful his suits still fit and make him look the same as he always did, concealing his stomach. He buttons the happily wiggling girl into her coat, puts on his sunglasses, makes sure he has his wallet and keys before slipping on his own coat.

He remembers wearing this to Eggsy's test. The one where he was strapped to train tracks. 

It feels like a lifetime ago.

And just as a precaution he grabs his umbrella, dart watch, slips on his signet ring and shoves a lighter grenade in his pocket.

You know, things _usually_ taken on walks with small children.

"Alright Daisy, ready to go?" he says, turning to the small girl, bundled in her coat.

"Yeah!" she smiles, bouncing on her feet.

He smiles, takes her hand and opens the door.

~

Walking with a small child really forces you to slow down and take in the aesthetics of the environment, Harry finds. You can't move too fast, and apparently they'll point out every tree, cobblestone, fountain, brightly colored house, bird and flower to you anyway. Tiny tour guides. You'll never miss a thing.

But then the suburbia-esque streets fall away, and they're walking down rows of small, quint little shops--which Daisy finds fascinating--until the girl gasps and looks into the wind of what Harry sees is a toy shop. Her eyes are wide and her grip on Harry's hand has tightened in excitement.

"Would you like to go in?" he asks, and he's not the least surprised when he gets a very enthusiastic nod, and then a tiny girl is pulling him towards a brightly colored red door.

The bell dings when they enter, which Daisy giggles at before she drags Harry through the sections. He can tell she's just observing and nothing has caught her eye just yet. 

Until, of course, the stuffed toy section. That's when the girl gasps and smiles wide, bouncing on her feet. And then Harry huffs a laugh as he is completely forgotten. That is, until she starts bringing toys back to show him, shoving them in his hands and telling him what they are. He puppets one (a spotted dog, it seems) so it pokes her nose and kisses her--which she finds hysterical, apparently--then she runs off again. But it gives him an idea. He watches her, and pays close attention to the ones she seems to like the most. In the end it's two. A purple cat that smells faintly of lavender, that is until you heat it up (in a microwave, oddly enough), then the smell gets a bit stronger. That, combined with the warmth is supposed to be especially soothing. It's used to lure children to sleep according to what he read on the tag as Daisy'd showed it to him (he's sure she doesn't know _that_ bit about the toy).

He notices that she seems to prefer scented toys because the second is a large stuffed moose with big brown eyes that matches its pelt. And smells like chocolate.

"Chocolate moose!" she yells in excitement, showing it to Harry before she hugs it to her and happily mumbles "Soft." 

"Daisy," he says, "I'll be over here for a minute, okay?"

"Okay!" she calls, distracted by the moose yet again, and not noticing when Harry walks to the register. She's still in his line of sight (because as safe as this neighborhood is, he refuses to take any chances.), but is thankfully distracted enough that she doesn't see Harry turning to the older woman at the counter.

"The lavender cat, and chocolate moose, please." he says to her quietly, before covertly pointing to the small girl looking at the toys a few feet away, "And if you could be discreet..."

The woman's face brightens in understanding, and she presses her finger to her lips in that universal 'quiet' gesture, then she nods and whispers, "One minute." as she disappears in the back room.

Harry blinks and then she's back, both stuffed animals in a bright red bag, offering it to Harry with a smile on her lips. He pays, thanks her, and puts the bag on his other side Daisy that doesn't see.

"Come along, Daisy." he calls, "There are more shops to explore."

"Okay!" she says, and she puts the stuffed animals down (very gently, he notices, as if she believes that they indeed have feelings too), and rushes to his side, taking his hand and smiling up at him, "Ready!"

He smiles, leading her out of the store and walking a few steps toward the small bench on the other side of the sidewalk so they're both out of people's way. She skips up to the bench and sits down, swinging her legs, and he kneels in front of her and presents her with the bag. Her face scrunches up in confusion before she takes it, looking at him. Then her face brightens, "Present?"

"I suppose so, yes."

Then she opens the bag and lets out one of those incredibly high pitched, happy screams that resonate at a frequency only young girls seems to be capable of. Harry huffs a laugh, and before he can recover from the sound he's being hugged rather tightly. He makes a rather undignified 'oomf' sound. She'd almost knocked him over.

"Thank you!" she squeals (right in his ear, actually. Will his eardrums survive this day? He's not sure.)

"No bother." he says, hugging her back.

She disconnects from him and hugs the large stuffed moose to her chest, burying her face in it, "Soft."

He smiles, she looks so _happy_. Children find joy in everything. Even the little things. Like a toy that smells like dessert (and it really does, he's smelled it. It's...interesting.).

She seems to be attached to the moose currently, so he takes the bag still containing the stuffed cat, and holds out a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, looking down at her. She beams up at him.

"Yeah!" she answers, clutching the moose close.

~

They end up in a sweet shop.

Harry doesn't really know how, but they do. He blinks and they apparently go from out in the cool grey air to looking at the rows of small cakes in the glass. 

"Would you like one?" he asks her, having an idea of what the answer will be.

"Yes please!" she chirps. The woman behind the counter smiles at their exchange.

"Alright, which one?"

She looks for a bit, until her eyes land on one particular cake and linger longer than the others.

"Chocolate moose, chocolate cake!" she says to the stuffed toy, pointing to the small fudge drizzled cake, "That one please!" she says, blinking up at Harry, beaming.

"That one it is." he answers.

He orders, sits Daisy down at one of the round tables, and tries to keep cake out of her hair as she eats. They both end up laughing because in the end, it's her face that's smeared with chocolate. He cleans her up, sets her back on the floor, hands her her stuffed moose, takes her hand, and then they're on their way back.

"I really like my toys." she says, looking up at him as they walk back, "Thank you." 

"It's no bother, miss Daisy." he answers, and she giggles at the nickname, hugging her toy tighter.

~

In the end, that lavender stuffed cat does exactly what the tag says it does.

Daisy is obviously worn out by the time they get back to Harry's house, but of course refuses to admit so, wanting to stay awake and play with her toys. So he takes the cat, reads the instructions, puts the thing in the microwave for three minutes, takes it out, makes sure it's not too hot, then gives it to Daisy as she watches cartoons. Her eyes widen when she feels how warm it is, and the soothing smell coming from the toy ensures that she falls asleep in four minutes flat.

Harry gently puts a pillow under her head, puts a blanket over her, and then sits down in the chair across from where she sleeps and opens a book.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww


	24. Chapter 24

Harry is not surprised that Eggsy catches them in much the same position as he did the day before.

Harry is holding a dozing, sleepy Daisy (who refuses to let go of the still-warm, scented, stuffed cat), and is gently swaying around the room.

Eggsy leans in the doorway, and watches him with those same dark eyes, and he tries not to be distracted by the boy. After all, Michelle should be showing up any minute now for Daisy--

And there's the knock.

Eggsy takes the girl's bag and brings it to his mother at the door, finally able to tear his eyes away from Harry and greet her with a hug and a smile. Harry grabs the stuffed moose, and makes his way to the door with the child dozing in his arms. Her mother's face softens when she sees her daughter, and she only notices the toy when she takes her from Harry and settles her on her hip.

"Harry bought me moose." Daisy says sleepily, "And kitty." she adds, shoving the stuffed cat in her hand in her mother's face.

"We went on a short walk and passed a toy store." Harry clarifies, handing Michelle the stuffed moose.

"Oh, Harry, you didn't have to! _Really._ " Michelle says, face red and grimacing at the prospect of her daughter causing him to spend any money.

"It was no bother, Michelle." he says, trying to soothe the panicking woman, "It cost hardly anything, trust me."

She takes breath and calms herself, pushing a lock of hair out of her face, "That was very sweet of you, Harry. Thank you."

Harry nods and says his goodbyes to a sleepy Daisy and moves back into the living room to put his book away as Eggsy kisses his mum goodbye. The door closes, and the draft in the house caused by the circulation of cool air settles. Harry places the book in it's proper place in the bookshelf and it really proves how oblivious he's become because he doesn't hear the boy walking up behind him, so when he turns the bumps right into him. Which seems to be a part of Eggsy's plan, judging by the slow and salacious smile that spreads across his face as he presses his body to Harry's and places his hands on his arse.

Eggsy takes him right there on the living room carpet. And Harry lets him because he fucking _craves_ Eggsy's attention and touch, as much as he tries not to think too hard about it. It's like his body knows that he's the one who claimed it and he's reacting accordingly. 

The following bath is a welcome relief from the slight rug burn that Harry's sure he has on his shoulders. He sits in the warm water, back to Eggsy's chest and closes his eye as he feels the boy's hand caress his stomach.

In these moments he can almost feel...hopeful.

"We'll need to come up with a name." Eggsy murmurs, kissing the back of Harry's head, "'Nd accordin' to Merlin you're due for a doctor's appoin'ment, love."

Harry makes a noise of agreement before he takes a slow breath and says, "And setting up a nursery."

He doesn't notice that Eggsy has gone quiet until he speaks again.

"I was...thinkin' abou' that. 'Arry." he starts slowly, wrapping his arms around him, "'Nd I was wonderin' if you'd be opposed to...gettin' a _new_ house. A bigger one. You know, so lil bit can have space to run round, yeah? With a backyard..."

Harry blinks. He...doesn't know what to say to that because this implies that Eggsy wants to stay with him and he has to process what that could _mean_ first. But he supposes it makes sense, and it's not like it truly matters anyway so he just manages to shrug and say, "That sounds nice."

"Really?" Eggsy asks, moving to look at Harry's face, "You want to do this, with me?"

Harry blinks, "Yes."

The younger man laughs and kisses Harry's wet hair.

Harry isn't quite sure what he's so happy about.

~

"You'll have to tell your mother, at some point." Harry tell him as they're curled up in the dark.

Eggsy's arm tightens around him and he chuckles a sleepy, "Quit playin' 'Arry."

"I'm _not_." he answers a tad defensively, and it isn't until Eggsy shifts, sits up and turns on the small bedside lamp that he sees the expression on the boy's face.

"Are you serious?" Eggsy says as he looks at Harry's frown and tries to hold back laughter. 

"Yes. I am." he says simply, and he's confused again. He's even more perplexed when the boy laughs and kisses him, shoulders shaking in laughter as he sits back and looks at him.

"What is it?" Harry asks, brow furrowing. 

"'Arry," Eggsy gasps through giggles, " _love_. She knows already. She's known for a while." 

Harry blinks, "What? Does she? How was I supposed to know that?" 

"Yeah, love. 'nd I assumed you would have guessed I told my mum first. She nearly hugged the life outta me." Eggsy chuckles, hand finding it's way under Harry's robe and onto his stomach, "Why so surprised?" 

"Well, I figured she wouldn't be very happy about," Harry waves his hands between them, "this." 

Now it's Eggsy's turn to look confused, "Why would you think that?" 

Harry can name a few fucking _dozen_ reasons, but he sticks to the basics.

No need to bring this conversation to an _overly_ negative place, he thinks.

"Well, I'm older than you, for one." he starts, staring at the ceiling in the dim lamp light, "And I'm the one who told her your father--" 

"'Arry." Eggsy says, cutting him off, "She knows how I feel about you, and honestly, she's thrilled about bein' a grandmother. I can't get her to stop talkin' about it when I visit. She's just chuffed that I'm ' _appy_. She thinks you're kind." he shrugs, looking at Harry fondly, "And she's right. Buyin' Dais those toys and bein' so good at takin' care of 'er..." he finishes, bending down to kiss Harry's rounded stomach, never tearing his eyes from his. 

Harry is silent with surprise.

Then Eggsy kisses _him_ , slow and sweet, before turning off the bedside lamp and pulling Harry to rest his head on his chest.

"Do you got any particular place you wanna live?" Eggsy asks after a few moments. 

"Hm?" 

"To raise the baby." Eggsy says softly, resting a hand on Harry's stomach again, rubbing absently, "Anywhere in particular?" 

"Somewhere...quiet." Harry says sleepily.

Eggsy chuckles, "I'll remember that then."

There isn't a sound in the room except for the steady huffs of their breathing, and after a few long moments Eggsy kisses the top of Harry's head and whispers, " _God_ , I love you." 

Harry is already asleep. 

~ 

The next day is a lot like the last. 

They make love, shower, and Harry makes tea while Eggsy gets dressed.

Soon Daisy is in his arms and Eggsy is kissing him goodbye.

He makes her breakfast and reads her a story as she dozes against him. Then he puts her down for a nap. When she wakes she bounces to his room and asks for lunch, and around 2 pm she asks to go on another walk.

He obliges her. 

He puts on a suit, grabs his umbrella, signet ring, lighter grenade and dart watch (one can never be too careful, _really_.), bundles the giggling little girl in her jacket and tries to keep up as she excitedly pulls Harry out into the cool air. He _does_ feel better outside, something about the fresh air brightens him the slightest bit, and he's not at all surprised when she pulls him into the nearest park. 

The same one he saw Daisy and Michelle in that day. 

And apparently the swings are very popular with the little girl, because Daisy makes a beeline straight for them as Harry trails after her. The park is empty, save for a few joggers and one other child with a teenager watching them from the sidelines, so the swings are free, Daisy is thrilled and Harry ends up pushing her as she kicks her feet and squeals.

"Higher!" she giggles, "Higher!" 

"Just a little higher." Harry tells her, "I don't want you to slip off and hurt yourself." 

She squeals happily as he pushes her with a bit more force, causing her swing a tad bit higher and giggle even louder, curly blonde locks flying as the wind tousles them. Soon she gets tired of the swing, and pulls Harry to the multicolored jungle gym. He frets and holds his arms underneath her should she slip, but she makes it to the top safely and grins.

"Look Harry!" she says, "I made it!" 

"Look at _you_." he applauds her from his place on the ground, "You're so tall." 

"Taller than you!" she squeals, bouncing on her feet. 

"Yes." Harry laughs, "Taller than me." 

"You look small!" she smiles.

"Do I?" he asks, huffing a laugh. 

"Yeah!" 

And that's how they spend the next two hours. Harry watches Daisy play on various objects, almost has a heart attack every time she slips (though she never actually falls), and smiles at how _easily_ entertained children are. 

At one point a little, bouncy black girl with curly hair--every bit as adorable and excitable as little miss Daisy--joins her, and Harry watches them form the fastest friendship he's ever seen. 

Daisy pulls the girl toward the jungle gym and they yell and laugh as they climb all over it.

Then it seems to turn into a game of tag, somehow. And suddenly two little bodies are whizzing around the park, making as much noise as about 10 children. Harry finds himself quietly fretting and hoping one of them doesn't fall.

He should probably buy some band-aids to carry on these outings.

"I take it she's yours?" a female voice says, and Harry turns and sees a black woman in a red trench coat smiling at him.

"Yes." he answers.

"It never ceases to amuse me how much kids love the park." the woman says, looking up at the afternoon sky, hands in her pockets.

"I was thinking the same thing." Harry replies, "Though I shouldn't be surprised, Daisy is quite excitable no matter what." 

She laughs, "My little Grace is the same way. I can _never_ get her to calm down. This is about the only thing that tires her out. My husband and I are at a complete loss." 

Harry smiles, "Those little heat up stuffed animals seem to do the trick."  

"Do they really?" she asks, eyebrows raised, "I was thinking of trying one of those. Wasn't sure if they worked though." 

"Put Daisy to sleep in under four minutes." Harry tells her, happy to have something he that he thinks can help.

"Wow," she replies, "Then I _really_ need to try that." 

They have to leave before Daisy and Harry do, and they look on with fond smiles when the two little girls hug and say goodbye like they've known each other their entire lives. Little Grace takes her mother's hand and the woman extends the free one to Harry and says, "I'm April, by the way." 

He smiles and takes her hand, "Harry. Very nice to meet you." 

"I'm Grace!" the little girl says, grinning up at him with big brown eyes.

Harry chuckles and kneels to greet her, putting out his hand which she happily takes, "Hello, miss Grace." 

April smiles at the interaction and laughs lightly when Grace enthusiastically shakes Harry's hand, bouncing in that same way Daisy does.

They leave ('what _lovely_ people,' Harry thinks), and Daisy wilts for about two seconds in mourning for her lost playmate until she's off again.

"Only a few more minutes, Daisy." Harry tells her, and she gasps and seems to run all over the park aiming to try everything one last time. Eventually Harry has to go to retrieve her from the monkey bars and she laughs loudly when he swoops in and picks her up, carrying her under his arm like a football to the entrance. She wiggles in his arms, a mess of giggles and blond curls until he puts her down and takes her hand.

Daisy bounces next to him, and Harry surmises that she's not quite as tired as she should be yet, seeing as when they return to Harry's house she has to be put down for her second nap, so they walk around the neighborhood, Daisy pointing out flowers and waving at everyone she sees and smiling happily when they wave back.

She skips down the sidewalk, jumping to avoid the cracks, and picking the flowers she can (Harry has to stop her from taking roses from other people's front yards, so she sticks to the dandelions on the grass outside of them.) 

The sun is getting low in the sky, and Harry sees the girl slowing down in exhaustion before she lets out a reluctant yawn. 

"Shall we head back?" Harry asks, looking down at her.

"No. Wanna walk more." Daisy insists, taking Harry's hand and pulling him along.

He guesses on more trip around couldn't hurt, and if Daisy gets too tired he can just carry her the short way home then put her down to sleep. No bother. 

Harry lets her lead him to a turn and suddenly feels like something is...off.

He doesn't know what it is, but he steers them towards his home just in case. He doesn't say anything to Daisy, and they don't move any faster because Harry _really_ isn't keen on startling the child if it turns out to be nothing but Harry's nerves messing with his head as they tend to do these days.

They pass several people who wave at Daisy and smile politely at Harry, and after a few moments he relaxes. It's just anxiety, he guesses, and he mentally kicks himself for the being so easily thrown off. 

The next block is one with few small stores, and Harry guides Daisy down the sidewalk as the girl now chooses to jump on _every_ crack (and really, how do children come up with these games?). 

Harry is about to ask but he's interrupted when he hears a loud, male voice he _thinks_  he remembers but can't really place. He can't see _exactly_ where it's coming from, and he can't quite pick out what's being said yet, but honestly, he really doesn't want to stick around to find out.

The yelling is coming from somewhere behind him, and Harry wouldn't even think to turn and entertain whoever it is that's making an absolute spectacle of themselves in the street. Harry has avoided _many_ a pointless confrontation by ignoring people and going on his merry way, and he intends to use the same method in this case as well. 

But Daisy is frozen.  

Harry looks down at her in concern and alarm. Her face is blank, but the small girl is trembling. 

"Daisy?" he asks, kneeling beside her, "Are you all right, dear?"

The girl looks at him with big, scared eyes, "We gotta go."

Harry couldn't agree more, and he's just about to pick her up and take the easiest route back to the house before Daisy sees something behind him, yelps and grabs his arm in fear. 

"Oi!", the voice yells, getting closer, "Wha' are ya doin' wit my daugh'er?"

Harry turns and is faced with the angry, gruff and unshaven face of Dean Baker. 


	25. Chapter 25

Daisy lets out a frightened little sob and tightly grasps Harry's hand in terror, "We gotta go, Harry. He's _bad_ and--he'll _hit_ us. We gotta go--"

Her voice is small, shaky and so _afraid_ that Harry is immediately infuriated and incredibly annoyed. He pushes Daisy behind him, and looks at the animal of a man that charges towards them, face red and fists clenched. He's in a dirty tracksuit, his face is unshaven and he has the air of a brute looking for a fight.

"It'll be alright, dear." he tells her.

It's too late to run, and even if he _could_ Harry doesn't think he _would_. People like Dean don't go away unless you _make_ them. People like Dean will keep looking for you over and over and over again. And they'll always find you. Every time.

Harry has dealt with people like him before. And Harry was never one to run from a fight. It's not in his nature. It never was.

"'ho the _fuck_ are you?" Dean spits, eyes blazing, "Wha' the _fuck_ are you doin' wit' my kid?"

"You really should refrain from swearing in front of children." Harry says easily, eye narrowing. He feels Daisy press closer to his leg, trembling violently and sniffling behind him. In the smallest, saddest voice he's ever heard he hears her mumble, "I'm _not_ his kid."

"You fuckin' posh _wanker_. I'm gonna mash your fuckin' face in--" 

"You're making a scene. This is a quiet neighborhood." Harry says icily, gripping his umbrella, "It's only a matter of time until someone calls the police." 

"'N I'll tell 'em you kidnapp'd my fuckin' daugh'er." Dean barks, pointing at Harry, coming to a stop a few feet away from them. 

"I'm not his daughter." Daisy mumbles again, like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

Dean looks at them, wild eyes blazing.

Yes, Harry Hart has seen men like Dean before. The explosive, dim-witted type that have about as many brain cells as a boulder and are about as tactful. They drink to excess and deal out violence and random acts of terror in order to intimidate anyone who happens to be smaller and weaker than them. 

He's also beaten men like Dean into the _ground_ before, so there's that too.

Harry takes in the man's disposition. His anger will most definitely make him sloppy, though he guesses that Dean isn't a particularly clever fighter anyway.

Should he engage Harry in combat, a quick, sharp and calculated blow to the liver would do the trick in causing him to double over low enough that he can strike the man's adam's apple (and stop him making any additional noise) and bring him to the ground. Another option is a swift strike of the knee to the groin and an elbow to the shoulders once he curls in on himself in pain. Another option is a blow to the jaw, to the chest to wind him, and then another strike to the jaw to break it.

Or he could just stun him with his umbrella and save himself the time, energy and effort. 

He also doesn't want to do anything _too_ brutal in front of Daisy (though he really, really wants to break _some_ part of the man's body for scaring the child). She's frightened enough. She doesn't need to be afraid of _Harry_ , too. 

"I _do_ try to refrain from pulling the class card because I find it rude and absolutely idiotic," Harry deadpans, "but because in this case you are threatening the safety and well-being of a child I must inform you that should the authorities be called they will be far more inclined to believe me as opposed to...you." he finishes, gesturing to him. 

"'m gonna take your _fuckin_ ' head off--" 

"And there you go, swearing in front of children again." he sighs in disappointment. 

"'nd I'm gonna find that fucking _slag_  Michelle--" 

"I advise you stop talking." Harry says darkly, "You're frightening Daisy and making an absolute spectacle of yourself." 

"Where the _fuck_  's Michelle? Bitch thinks she can take my kid 'nd fuck off? They both belong to me 'nd I'm gonna drag that whore 'nd my daugh'er back where they belong, _'nd some posh, nancy-boy ain't gonna stop me._ "

"And again, I advise you to keep your voice down, and walk away." Harry says blandly, "You are not taking this child."

"'Ho the fuck are you?" the man sneers, as he paces closer, glaring at Harry.

He's practically _foaming_ at the _mouth_. Harry doesn't think he's every been this needlessly angry for... _anything_ , actually. The man _is_ entertaining to look at though, and Harry just stares at him with obvious disgusted interest, like one would look at a particularly disgusting science project.

You want to see what _happens_ , but you don't want to _touch_ it.

When the man lunges at him Harry is less than surprised. It's a startlingly quick turn of events for the little girl though, and Harry hears Daisy's scream as he pushes her far enough behind him in time to take a quick step and knee the other man in the stomach and deliver a crushing blow to his nose. The crunch of bone and cartilage giving way under his hand echoes in the quiet street. 

Honestly, he didn't even intend to break his nose. It just _happened_.

Maybe his instincts and reflexes haven't gotten as dull as he thought.

Harry really would have preferred not to be pushed to violence (if only because Daisy is present), but the man is crass, abusive, and a danger to the little girl. Harry can't allow that. Nor can he entertain it.

So when Dean chokes and doubles over with blood gushing from his face, Harry quickly strikes his ribs twice, then his adam's apple and brings his elbow down on the man's shoulders, effectively sending him crashing to the concrete.

Dean is slightly bigger than him, and definitely broader, but he's _clearly_ a lumbering idiot, and not trained in...well, _anything_. It's pitifully easy. The whole physical confrontation takes less than 10 seconds.

The dirty man chokes and bleeds on the ground at Harry's feet, an arm wrapped around his middle, and Harry can only sigh in annoyance.

Looking at him, Harry can accurately guess that the man has a broken nose, three cracked ribs, and probably multiple bruises.

Well...he didn't _kill_ him. So Harry pats himself on the back for his exercise in restraint.

He hears a sniffle, and turns around to see Daisy looking at Dean writhing on the concrete with wide eyes.

She doesn't look afraid anymore, but more pleasantly shocked. Like she's just realized that the man isn't in fact an all-mighty monster to be eternally feared but just a man. A man that can be struck down. Made to bleed.

Harry can imagine that takes a lot of the fear out of it for her.

"Are you alright, Daisy?" he asks, and the girl looks at him and nods before walking up to Harry and taking his hand in a tight grip.

"He--he... _stopped_." she says quietly, eyes wide in surprise, blinking down at him, "You _stopped_ him." 

"Yes, well." he says, scooping her up quickly, "Let's be off." 

He turns to walk away before he remembers.

Ah... _right_.

He shifts the girl to his other arm, turns the selection dial on his watch, and quickly points and shoots the tranquilizer into the man's leg.

Harry can hear Dean pass out as he walks away, Daisy looking at the form of the man on the ground getting smaller and smaller as they leave him behind before she tightens her grip on Harry. 

~ 

The little girl is too riled up to nap, and Harry wishes he could go back and kick the shit out of Dean Baker again.

She's a live wire, and the mix of excitement at what Harry has done combined with the anxiety of having seen Dean again makes it so the child can barely sit down, let alone sleep. 

She doesn't say much, just fidgets and walks around, picking up random things and fiddling with them. She goes about this for about half an hour, and Harry sits on the couch and watches--still wearing his suit because he's too concerned for the girl to leave her alone for the ten minutes it will take him to change--until she stops and looks at him.

She scratches at her nose, and looks down, a little finger tracing the lining of the coffee table before she says, "He hit mummy. And Eggsy. A lot. And...me." 

 ** _Shit_**.

He _suspected_ but something about hearing the little girl _say_ it makes him want to head right out the door, activate the lighter grenade and make the fucking monster _swallow_ it.

Next time he sees him, that's what he'll do. It's a promise. No one will be able to stop him.

Harry clenches his jaw and doesn't give away how fucking _enraged_ he is. Who the fuck hits _children_? Who the fuck hits _anyone_ who doesn't deserve it?

But... _children_? Who _never_ deserve it? No matter what?

The world is full of monsters, and Harry knows this, but every now and again he remembers how fucking _terrible_ people are and it's like he can't fucking _believe_ it.  

And in a world full of monsters, children are the only things that are perpetually innocent. 

 _Nothing_ a child could do _ever_ warrants someone harming them. 

"And Eggsy hit Dean a lot and yelled really loud when he found out. Eggsy was really mad. We got away, kinda." she continues, "When I saw him I was really scared." 

And this is where Harry decides to cut in.

"Come, Daisy." he says softly, waving her over, picking her up and placing her next to him. The girl immediately curls up under his arm and looks up at him in a silent question.

"You know," Harry starts, looking her right in the eye, "that adults are not supposed to hit children, right?"

She hesitates--and Harry's heart breaks further, because she looks like the thought had never occurred to her--then slowly nods.

"And do you know that it doesn't matter what you do, that no adult is supposed to hit you?" 

She blinks at him, "Not even if I do anything bad? Mommy doesn't hit me when I do something bad, but he..." she trails off and wiggles her nose. 

" _No_." Harry clarifies, "No adult is supposed to hurt you. At all. Ever. Even if you do something bad." 

She considers this, then looks up at him and nods. 

"And do you know that if an adult hurts you it's not your fault?" he asks, "That it's because they're bad, not you?" 

She bites her lip and her brows furrow in thought. Then she nods. 

"And if anyone hurts you, tell someone you trust." he tells her, "Like Eggsy, or your mother." 

"Or you?" she says, blinking up at him. 

Harry blinks, surprised, "If you want to, yes." 

She nods, "Okay." 

And then she grins and jumps from the couch, back to being herself.

And now wants to play a game. 

Harry smiles, and helps her set up the cards.

~

He sees Eggsy's brow furrow out the corner of his eye when he walks in--from another local mission, Harry assumes judging by the wrinkles of his suit and the fact that he has a small cut on his bottom lip--and finds Harry and Daisy on the couch watching cartoons rather than Harry lulling Daisy to sleep, as he normally does.

Harry takes a breath and looks back at the television (where some show about magical ponies are trying to teach children about racism in some convoluted and overly metaphorical way), then at an enraptured Daisy whose eyes won't leave the screen, and gets up, motioning for Eggsy to move out of the living room and out of hearing range of the little girl.  

"What's wrong?" Eggsy says anxiously, eyes scanning Harry's body for any visible injuries, "You look like somethin's wrong. What's happened are you alright--" 

"We're fine--" 

"Is it the baby? Did someone mess with you?" Eggsy says, that dark look in his eyes again, "Did someone--" 

" _Eggsy._ ", Harry says, and he guesses he looks grave enough because the younger man stops and looks at him, "On an outing today we came across Dean Baker--"

The mask of protective anger that appears on Eggsy's face almost makes Harry not want to tell him anything else. He looks infuriated. _Manic_.

"Did 'e attack you?" Eggsy says, voice low and eyes dark. Harry can almost _see_ the heat under his skin--

"Well... _yes_ , but--" he starts.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him." Eggsy snarls, moving to put on his glasses and--presumably--demand that Merlin track the man down.

Harry has no problem with that, but he'd _like_ to finish telling Eggsy what happened first. 

"Eggsy--" 

"No. I should have beat that piece of shit to death ages ago." Eggsy snarls, "He fuckin' touched you. He dies." 

"Will you let me--" 

"I'm gonna fuckin' _dismember_  'im. Ain't no one gonna be able to find the pieces." the younger man spits, and Harry has never seen him so manically angry before. He almost takes a step back. The boy is rather...terrifying. He's _vibrating_ with fury. He rakes his hands down Harry's body, frantically looking for any injury, before resting them on his stomach then tugging a hand through his hair.

"Eggsy, _I took care of it_."

He stops for a moment and looks at Harry, but it doesn't tamper down his rage, it just makes him pause. 

"He has a few cracked ribs and a broken nose." Harrys says blandly, "But he'll live. Unfortunately." 

"You fought 'im?" Eggsy asks, obviously trying to keep his voice even.

"It was hardly a fight," he says, "seeing as the man is a lumbering idiot." 

Eggsy lets out a breath and harshly tugs a hand through his hair. He's breathing heavy, and his face is even more red with the effort of keeping himself calm. Or as calm as he can manage, anyway.

"You shoulda called me." Eggsy says, rubbing a hand down his face in fury. 

"You were _miles_ away." Harry objects, "What would that have done?" 

"I woulda...done... _somethin'_." Eggsy growls, pinching the bridge of his nose and clenching with other into a shaking fist, "I woulda fuckin' done _somethin_ '." 

"It wouldn't have made any sense--" 

" _He coulda hurt you_." the younger man says, trying to keep his voice steady because he's not furious with _Harry_ , but he's fucking pissed to the point of murder because _he wasn't there._ Harry or Daisy could have been hurt and he wasn't there. 

Their baby could have been hurt. Dean could have hurt their _baby_ and Eggsy is going to fucking _find_ him and _tear_ into him--

"Well I'm not _completely_ helpless." Harry counters, looking at the fuming man. 

"You're _pregnant_." Eggsy says, eyes blazing, "If 'e'd hit you--" 

"But he didn't get the chance." Harry interrupts, trying to calm him.

"You were still in _danger_. You coulda still been _hurt_ \--" 

"But I wasn't." 

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'im." 

"I have no objections to that." Harry says. 

Eggsy presses his lip together in fury, and composes himself before going over to his sister and talking to her in a low voice. By the end she's giggling, and he's smiling.

But Harry can see what's under the surface.

And it's a man on _fire_. 

 


	26. Chapter 26

In the end it's Eggsy and Daisy who tell Michelle about the encounter with Dean when she comes to the door to get her daughter.

Harry stands off to the side (because if anything is an Unwin family matter, _this_ is) and Daisy tells her mother what happened with impressive accuracy  & detail. And honestly, Harry wouldn't be there at all (because he's had quite enough social interaction for today, thanks very much) but Eggsy'd taken his hand and steered him toward the door. So he's been forced to watch Michelle's face twist in fear and horror when Daisy get to the part where Dean attacked him.

"Oh _God_ , Harry!" she says, "Are you alright?"

"Harry broke his nose." Daisy says smugly, "And left him on the sidewalk."

Michelle looks at her daughter in surprise, and Harry decides this is probably the best time to say something.

"It's fine." he says simply, "It wasn't a very long...confrontation."

"Oh God." Michelle moans, eyes watering, "I'm so, so sorry for this--"

"Michelle. It's no trouble, really. He's hardly a threat." Harry says firmly, because he really doesn't want this woman worrying herself sick over the fact that Harry ran into her ex, "My main concern is that he'll come across you and Daisy when I'm not around." 

Realization hits Michelle, and she blanches as Eggsy says, "I'll take care of that, mum. Don't worry, yeah?"

She takes a breath and looks at her son, managing a tense smile, "Sometimes it seems like you take care of me more than I've ever taken care of you, babe. But thank you."

And now Harry feels even _more_ out of place and like he's intruding on a precious family moment and is just about to dismiss himself until Michelle's eyes snap to him, "And what are _you_ doing _fighting_?" she scolds him.

Harry blinks in surprise.

"You're _pregnant_." Michelle reminds him crossly (and why is everyone reminding him of that today? He hasn't _bloody_ _forgotten_ ), brows furrowed, "You could have been _hurt_ \--"

"That's what _I_ told 'im, mum." Eggsy says, crossing his arms and looking at Harry with an expression that's one half 'I told you so' and smug amusement.

"I didn't have many other options." Harry says defensively, feeling attacked, "Fleeing would have--"

"No more fighting for _you_." Michelle says, pointing at him, "You have to stay safe or Eggsy will _lose_ it." she finishes with a whisper in his direction.

"Mum!" 

"What?" she says innocently, "It's not like it's not the truth."

Daisy giggles in her arms though he doubts she truly understands what they're talking about (and Harry bets she's regretting not taking that nap now, seeing as she's started yawning and has been suspiciously quiet throughout the conversation).

"But I'm serious, Harry." she says, glaring at him. 

He opens his mouth to object, but then he's met with two sets of glares from two sets of eyes. Eggsy and Michelle look at him and Harry snaps his mouth shut.  

This is clearly a fight he's destined to lose.

Michelle raises her eyebrows at him and when he reluctantly nods he doesn't miss the ghost of a smile that appears on her face.

Michelle takes her leave and Daisy sleepily waves her goodbyes and then they're gone.

And Eggsy's hands are on his stomach again.

~

"That piece of shit 'it Dais once." Eggsy says, voice quiet but biting with that dark anger that Harry has seen in his eyes before, "The entire left side of 'her face swole up. Fuckin' bruised 'nd black 'nd blue." 

Eggsy wraps his arm tighter around Harry and shifts in his spot on the bed. 

Harry bites the inside of his cheek and reminds himself to kill Dean Baker if he ever comes across him again. 

"I kicked the shit outta 'im. That' night I almost _killed_ 'im." he continues, tone venomous,"I was really gonna. Just take the knife 'nd fuckin' kill 'im." he pauses for a moment before he continues, "But then I thought...what was gonna 'appen to mum 'nd Dais if I was locked up or sumfin?" 

They fall silent, but eventually Harry says, "Daisy told me. Today." 

Eggsy tenses before he looks at him in shock, "She did?" 

"Yes. I don't think she didn't know it wasn't her fault. So I had a short conversation with her." 

"Oh." Eggsy says slowly, "How did _that_ go?" 

Harry shrugs and fidgets on the bed, trying to find an agreeable position, though with his stomach is makes it harder to stay comfortable. 

"I told her that adults shouldn't hit children no matter what the child does, and that if they do it means there's something wrong with them. Not the child." he says absently, sighing in annoyance when he has to move a pillow out of the way, "She said she understood and that was about it." 

"Hm." Eggsy says, and if Harry had been paying attention maybe he would have predicted what was coming next.

"Why do you believe that for everyone else but not yourself?" the younger man asks, looking Harry in the eye. 

Harry freezes, "That's not--" 

"Don't say it ain't the same thing, 'arry." Eggsy says, "'Cause it _is_." 

"I really don't think so--" 

"Seriously, why won't you admit that your parents were wrong?" Eggsy asks, "It's the exact _same_ thing." 

"It's _not_." Harry snaps, sitting up. The movement causes Eggsy's arm to slide off of him, and the boy looks at him in annoyance. 

"'ow is it not the same thing, then? Explain it, yeah?" Eggsy chides, "'ow is your parents 'itting you different than Dean--" 

"I am not having this conversation right now." Harry says with an air of finality, "I'm exhausted." 

"So am I, but that don't mean--" 

"I said I don't want to talk about it, isn't that enough?" 

"No." the boy says, eyes hard, "You don't think I notice, but you're not..." 

"I'm not what?" Harry says testily.

They're on opposites sides of the bed now, and Eggsy is halfway off of it when he snaps, "You're not _responsive_." 

Harry blinks at him. 

"See? You just...do _that_. Look at me with that fuckin' _blank_ expression. I tell you that I want to get a fuckin' 'ouse with you and all you say is 'alright'. You just go along with whatever I want and--you ain't...fully... _here_. Or like you don't _wanna_ be. It's like...like you're waitin' for me to leave or sumfin'." 

"Well,  _aren't_ you?" Harry snaps, and distantly, he has no bloody idea where the anger came from, though a small part of his mind suggests the words 'hormones' and 'mood swings'. He ignores it.

"Why the fuck would you think that?" the younger man snaps back, " _This_ is what I'm talkin' about, you ain't..."

"What?" Harry asks, "You're cross because you coming back and sleeping in my bed with me doesn't erase the fact that I was shot in the _head_ and nothing is the same? That _I'm_ not the same? That I can't remember simple things and am maybe a bit emotionally despondent? That you coming back and being with me didn't _cure_ me? That your _wonderful visage_ didn't result in me falling into your arms, completely mentally healthy and enthusiastically asking you to buy me a ring and carry me off into the sunset? That you  _fucked_ me and I didn't start shitting rainbows?" 

"You _know_ that ain't what I meant--" 

"Then what the fuck _did_ you mean?" he snaps, "You aren't a cure-all, Eggsy. Understand that now. I'm not _magically_ going to get better from being in your presence. I can't remember what day is it for more than 2 hours, and my hands still shake. You just _being_ here doesn't make everything okay. Maybe it's all okay for _you_ , but you are not the one afraid to pick up a dish because you might have an episode and throw it to the floor. Or can't look at your own face because you'll be reminded that a chunk of it is missing." he continues, angrily gesturing to the bandage, " _I_ will never hold a gun again, and I'll never be able to do _anything_ I could before. I still can't get the _handle_ of the fucking door on the first try, _so don't act like you're the one who has it hardest here._ " 

"Why are you so fuckin' _difficult_?" Eggsy yells, standing up and running a hand down his face in anger, "Why? Why are you always pickin' fights?" 

" _I'm_ picking fights?" Harry snaps, "I say I don't want to talk about something and _you_ push the subject, then proceed to start _yelling_ and accusing me of being distant just because oh _yes_ , I just completely  _long_ to make life harder for _you_ \--" 

"I'm tryna _help_ \--" 

"In what world is that the way to help _anyone_? " 

"In the world where you won't admit that you're a fuckin' victim of _child abuse_ 'nd that you won't acknowledge that you're carryin' my _kid_." 

"What does it matter?" Harry answers, "It's not like my not addressing it means it's not _happening anyway_ \--"  

"'ow do you think that makes me feel?" Eggsy yells, "That you don't even fuckin' acknowledge the baby you're having with _me_?" 

" _Because I don't want to have a baby at all!_ " Harry snaps.

And the world stops. Everything is silent, and they just look at each other. Eggsy looks at him, mouth open and at a loss for words. Harry immediately shoves his face in his hands.

And then the world starts moving again. And it all moves too fast.

And as Eggsy grabs his coat and walks out the door, Harry pulls the blankets over his head and vows to never come out from under them and the warmth and faux security they provide. 

And if Harry starts to silently shed angry tears, well, no one has to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter tonight because my tummy hurts. The chapter tomorrow night will be longer. I promise!


	27. Chapter 27

Harry doesn't sleep. He _can't_.

The argument plays over and over again in his head, and he curses himself because why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Why couldn't he just agree with what Eggsy said and stay quiet?

He didn't mean it. At least he doesn't _think_ he did.

He was _angry_ , and felt cornered so he blurted out the darkest thought that popped into his head at the time.

The uncomfortable thing is that he doesn't even know if that's how he feels or not.

It's not like it matters. Eggsy's gone.

Harry can imagine it now. Eggsy's suits slowly disappearing from the closet. His toothbrush mysteriously vanishing. His jacket being removed from the rack.

Just...him leaving.

Harry doesn't want that, but that's what he deserves.

He...wants this baby, he thinks. Or _does_ he? He doesn't _know_. And that's the worst part. He doesn't even know if he _lied_ to Eggsy or not.

Harry doesn't know how he feels about _himself_ , how is he supposed to have an opinion on someone else? He's indifferent.

He needs help. 

Harry has never been great at asking for help. The very concept is foreign to him. Especially on such a deep emotional level. Asking for backup on a mission? Fine. Asking Merlin for a quicker reaction time on a gadget? Fine? Asking a fellow agent to spar with him to sharpen his reflexes? Fine.

Asking for therapy? For emotional support and reassurance because _'I need help I'm not feeling right and I'm very afraid of the current situation I'm in and worried I might to do something awful'_? Dealing with vulnerability and _feelings_? No. _Not_ fine. 

And it's not even coming from a prideful mindset or some sort of odd sense of hypermasculinity (which Harry has never really had because he thinks it's as idiotic as the next person with two brain cells to rub together), he just really doesn't know _how_. How does one even _start_ to ask for help?

His parents never helped him with _anything._ Nothing more than creating him. He was pawned off on nannies and when he was foolish enough to seek out his parents for comfort or help of some kind he always regretted it. And when he was about 6 Harry surmised that the bruises and cuts from his interactions with his mother and father weren't worth it. His caretakers weren't even much help. They were as cold as every other adult that Harry had to be around as a child, and were hardly fit to nurture or make a child feel comfortable and safe. He remembers having a nightmare and one of the women just looking at him blankly when he asked for a hug. He was 5.

It's no secret he'd grown up in a wealthy household, but the mansion was very cold, and empty. Far too big for the number of people who lived in it. It's almost like his mother and father needed a comically large home so they could get away from each other. And _stay_ away from each other. Away from _him_. The house lacked any and all warm colors (the main color scheme being white, silver and an icy blue that Harry always thought matched his mother's eyes and temperament), and any and all warmth. He supposes that's why when he bought his own house he decided on something the exact opposite. Something small, and lovingly decorated. Warm.

He'd always looked at his parents and wondered. Why have children if you don't even want them? They obviously didn't want him, but oddly enough he's about 60% sure they loved him, because they told him so. Whenever he did something wrong (which was often because like he's mentioned, Harry was a handful and far too much to deal with) and he was smacked about or worse, they'd always said 'we are doing this because we love you'. Why would they say that if it wasn't true? They weren't liars, they told him rather explicitly what they thought of him as soon as he was old enough to comprehend words and the concept of language and communication, so Harry isn't too inclined to believe they were lying. They also put a roof over his head and indirectly cared for him as he grew up, though he saw them less and less the older he'd gotten. The point is, Harry is pretty sure his parents cared about him just a little bit (enough to rectify his erratic behavior in the only way they said he truly understood, physical punishment), but they probably aren't the best example of balanced parental figures.

It wasn't until Harry'd ended up in some posh primary school for Year 1 where he learned that all parents weren't like his. Sure they drove the same cars as his mother and father and wore the same pearls as his mother and shiny watches as his father, but he saw something...different. The other kids parents actually came _themselves_ to get them from school, and Harry had been confused. Do they not have nannies? Aren't nannies supposed to be replacements for parents? Why are the other kids' parents hugging and kissing them? Is that normal? Is this what all parents do? What they're supposed to? His classmates looked so happy to be greeted by their mothers and fathers every day. The only thing he felt was impending dread when he accidentally ended up in a wing of the house that his parents were in and caught a whiff of his mother's perfume or caught a glimpse of his father's tie. He caught on that they were in that particular part of the huge house, and he would flee to the other side as quickly as possible.

And for the first time in Harry's life he wondered if maybe that's not how it's supposed to be.

Anyway, after the headmistress caught sight of Harry's bruises and questioned him, it all went downhill. He'd said nothing, just looked at the woman's kind face and wondering why she bothered to care so much, until his mother and father had been called and his mother told some white lie about him falling on a rock in the garden. 

And then he was immediately taken out of the school and taught by private tutors for the rest of his primary school career.

He guesses his parents just couldn't risk it.

So the point is, Harry isn't the best person to be raising a child. He does alright with Daisy because she's already somewhat cemented in her morals and such. Michelle has done an amazing job with that, really, the girl is lovely. But Harry is pretty sure he would cock it up somehow.  

He's also been taught that asking for help means you get more trouble than you bargained for. But maybe this time is different. Maybe he can actually-- 

""arry," Eggsy says, and Harry feels the bed dip when the younger man crawls in beside him.

And Harry is...shocked. One, because he never heard him come in, and two, because he's back. 

He's back. 

"I'm sorry." Harry says immediately, turning to face him, "I didn't mean it. I really didn't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I--I just--" 

"I know." Eggsy soothes, and Harry shuffles closer to him, "I'm sorry, 'arry, I didn't think you were strugglin' so much and I...I shoulda noticed. I didn't mean to push you, about--"

"I know." 

Eggsy sighs, and he can feel the younger man relax. He deflates like air from a balloon. Harry takes breath and tries not to think too hard about what he's going to say next. Then...he falters. But it's too late. Eggsy is looking at him expectantly, and Harry's last thought is _'Jesus, stop being such a dramatic tit_ ' before he looks at Eggsy and says, "I think I need help."

And the sky doesn't come crashing down. 

~

Harry almost immediately regrets it.

Merlin really wastes no time. At all.

It'd been a while since he'd spoken to the quartermaster, and he wasn't too surprised to see the steady green blip on the lens of his glasses (which he hadn't even touched in ages) and put them on only to hear Merlin very firmly telling him that he was scheduled for a therapy appointment in the Kingsman psych ward in two hours. 

Jesus, when had Eggsy even had time to _tell_ Merlin that Harry was seeking help? 

He also tries not to roll his eye when he hears the words psych ward.

On a higher note, he is starting to be able to grasp things on the third try. So that's nice. 

Harry isn't going to deceive himself, he's feeling really fucking smothered already. Like, 'pillow-being-pressed-against-his-face' smothered. But fuck, it's about time to start being something that resembles a human again, so he tries not to entertain the thought of tranquilizing himself with his dart watch in order to get out of this, and actually fucking get dressed.

He learns that Merlin also scheduled a doctor's appointment for him in a day. And he's even less surprised at this bit of news. So basically, Harry predicts that he'll spend almost his entire weekend being extremely unamused. Eggsy seems thrilled though, and that helps the tiniest bit.

A part of him would still rather tranquilize himself though.

The feeling only intensifies when he's told that he has an appointment with a psychiatrist right after therapy. It's all too much at once, and he's about two clicks from just not doing any of it, but Eggsy helps him with his tie and...presents an eye patch.

There's no string, and Harry spies--he assumes--skin friendly adhesive lining the thing. It's navy blue. Gold accented along the border. 

Harry looks at it. And doesn't know how to feel. He's touched at the gesture, and Eggsy's smile is wonderfully bright, but the anxiety of having to take off the bandage and face himself makes his breath hitch. He doesn't want to have to see the damage. At all. He wants to act like it never happened.

But then again he's sure that's why he needs therapy in the first place.

In the end he isn't the one who makes the decision. Eggsy takes him by the hand and sits him on their bed, and kneels in front of him and slowly takes the bandage off with a smile that never wavers. Harry feels...oddly vulnerable with it uncovered. Not to mention the odd feeling of having skin exposed to air when it hasn't been in a very long time. But he doesn't have to look at it. So it's not so bad, he decides when Eggsy places the patch over his eye and leans in gently and kisses it. Then kisses Harry. 

And somehow he feels...better. Eggsy insists on escorting him to Kingsman headquarters, and Harry doesn't argue too much because his presence is a comfort and if he needs anything right now, it's probably comfort. 

And that's how they end up on the bullet train, Eggsy with his hand on Harry's stomach like it grounds him, and Harry with his eyes on his phone screen catching up with reading the emails that Merlin has been sending as updates on what's been going on while Harry has been rotting inside is own mind.

They stop, and Harry sighs. Time to start with whatever grueling shit Merlin has scheduled for him. He thinks about going back.

Eggsy grabs his hand and he doesn't have the chance. He's being lead through familiar hallways and he feels a comforting rush of _home_ before he turns down a corridor that he has hardly graced with his presence.

The psych ward isn't what the name implies, he knows, and it's more of a large waiting room just as gaudy in decor as the rest of the building. One hall branches off and is a straight shot to the infirmary, the other leads to the rooms used for therapy sessions, and the door to his left leads to the psychiatrists office. 

It's _looks_ like all the other rooms, but it _feels_ like he's stranded in Serbia again (that actually happened to him about two years ago. He wouldn't recommend it.), and he barely registers the man in the sharp black suit that greets him when Eggsy gently tugs him into the first therapy room. 

And then Harry blinks, and with a kiss and a ' _it'll be fine, love'_ he's gone, and Harry is blinking at an older man who he's sure he's seen wandering the halls before, but has never gotten to know.

Harry sighs, and listens as Dr.Tandon introduces himself. Harry politely does the same, and then it starts.

And it's...not bad.

Harry decides that he'd just blurt out whatever came to mind and whatever was the truth. There's no point in him building up the courage to come here and then lying to the therapist and gaining nothing from it. So he's truthful and tells the man that he feels helpless, hopeless and useless, isn't sure he wants a baby, and that he mourns the job he can no longer due to his injury.

Harry just tells him everything.

And it's....not as difficult as he thought it would be. Maybe spending so much time in his head these past few weeks have allowed to organize his thoughts, even though that's hardly what he felt like he was doing at the time. 

The man nods in understanding, grey wisps of hair falling onto his forehead, and Harry doesn't feel _nearly_ as condescended to as he thought he would. 

By the end Harry is winded from speaking for such a long stretch of time, and the doctor suggests depression along with OCD to explain the compulsive thought patterns and cyclical repetitions. 

Makes sense to him.

He senses that the man has more theories, but obviously decides against whatever other suspicions he has about Harry's mental state.

Fine by him. 

And then like that, he's out and Eggsy is looking at him expectantly (and did Eggsy sit out here the entire hour waiting for him?) and Harry just says what he's been thinking since he got into the room.

"It wasn't bad.", he says in mild surprise.

Eggsy smirks at him.

~

The psychiatrist appointement is...worse. not to say that it was particularly dreadful, just that it wasn't like the therapy session. For one, Merlin is present, and two, he has to now repeat basically the same thing he'd told the therapist.

Harry's exhausted.

"Ah, Merlin," Harry starts, eye narrowing at the quartermaster when Eggsy leads him through the door, "have you come to watch them lobotomize me?"

The man rolls his eyes, "You should probably catch up on more _current_ mental health aids. You know, from _this_ century and all." he says, and Merlin is difficult to read, but Harry has known him for a very long time. And he knows when the Scotsmen is making fun of him. And if Harry knows anything, it's that if Merlin gets cheeky about knowing something you don't, you own up to it and the quartermaster's smug expression should disappear. Give him nothing else to be smug about.

He immediately retaliates.

"I'd rather snap my spine in half than research something before making an uneducated guess about it." Harry says dramatically, tone dripping sarcasm, "So either I'm being lobotomized or you snap my fucking neck right now, it's your call."

Merlin rolls his eyes with a sigh, "Wow, one therapy session and you're almost back to your old self."

"Miss me?" Harry asks, and he only notices that Eggsy is laughing at their interaction behind him because Merlin shoots him an unamused look.

"You mean did I miss the most troublesome and least tactful kingsman agents I've ever worked with?"

"Ah, so you did, then."

Merlin smirks, "Just get better, Arthur. We need you."

The man gives him a friendly (if emotionally constipated) pat on the shoulder and Harry is only just turning and looking at the door Merlin has disappeared through before he sees the doctor come in.

He...looks a lot like the therapist, actually. God, Harry thinks, they really need to get people who aren't old, white males in this branch of the organization. Because if this keeps happening Harry won't be able to differentiate between doctors. Or....anyone, actually.

And so Harry has to sit there and recount how he feels and all that, just like with the therapist. But Eggsy is there.

Harry doesn't mind, he just wonders why the boy would want to sit through this.

"Well, Arthur. It seems you're suffering from major depressive disorder and compulsive thoughts." The man say nonchalantly, and Harry is only barely able to hold back an annoyed sigh.

"Yes. That's what I've _just_ been told." He says, and for some reason he finds himself tracing his finger over his eye patch for about a millisecond before he notices and snatches his hand away.

In the end it takes the man a while to find antidepressant that someone pregnant can actually take without ruining their unborn child, and the OCD medication is chosen with the same care. Eggsy takes the prescriptions for him with a soft smile in his direction, before helping him out of his seat.

They stop at the medbay to get the bottles of pills that Harry is _really_ trying not to think about, and then they step out into the sunshine of the civilian world.

~

"It ain't so bad, is it?" Eggsy asks, taking his hand. He wonders how they look. He hardly cares what others think  (because if he did he would have needed antidepressants a long, long time ago), he just wonders.

Especially since he's showing now. 

He's one half pleased with the fact that Eggsy (and Harry is trying not to think about how good he looks...all the time, basically) wants to take his hand in public, and one half hesitant. He's not sure why. He just is.

"I suppose not." He answers, and looks at the younger man in question when he stops at the cab but makes no move to get in.

Eggsy looks at him, and his eyes are soft.

"Wanna walk a bit?"

Harry furrows his brow, "Alright, but for what purpose?"

Eggsy squeezes his hand and shrugs, "Just wanna walk with you. Show you off." He finishes with a wink.

Harry shakes his head fondly because honestly, he has no idea what to say. It doesn't seem to matter though, because the younger man has let out a laugh and started leading him down the street.

~

The shops are what keep them out for longer than they planned.

And Harry has to admit it's _nice_ , taking a walk with Eggsy, dark cloud hanging over his head or not.

He hesitates when Eggsy moves to gently tug him into what he realizes is a store full to the brim with baby furniture, clothes and toys.  But the young man just squeezes his hand in reassurance, and Harry nods.

The shop is absolutely adorable, though that doesn't really quell Harry's unease. Eggsy's enthusiasm does, even when Harry doesn't quite have any opinions on cribs.

He doesn't want to come off as a stick in the mud though, so he quickly adds, "We can't decide that," he says, "until we know what color the walls are going to be."

Eggsy beams at him, and he ends up looking down rows and rows of cradles and diaper changing stations.

"You're handling the diapers, by the way." Harry tells him, "Forgot to mention it, but I don't make the rules."

The younger man looks so happy in that moment that Harry has the fleeting thought that it might all worth it.

"How did I get stuck with that job?" He protests in faux indignation,  "Rubbish."

Harry shrugs and flicks one of the little fishes on a mobile he's been looking at, "I told you I don't make the rules. It's just how it has to be. Condolences."

Eggsy laughs brightly and sweeps him up into a kiss, right in the middle of the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!


	28. Chapter 28

Exactly 24 hours after exploring the shops with Eggsy, Harry and Eggsy are holding a picture.

A sonogram.

Their first glimpse at their baby.

"Oh God," Eggsy says, eyes and smile wide, voice reverant, "look how tiny they are. Harry..."

And Harry isnt sure if it's the antidepressants he's started taking, or the fact that he gets to actually _see_ them, but something changes.

"Yes...", Harry says, looking at the picture in concentration bordering on distraction, "I..they're so...small." he finishes in awe.

They're still in the medical bay, the doctors having left them alone to stare at the small, gray little life that is the child they created. The ultrasound had been so quick his head spun, and one moment Harry had to tolerate a cold gel being spread across his stomach and then the next he was looking at this little...wiggling... _person_. Or, the very _beginnings_ of a person.

"But look," Eggsy breathes, happiness winding him, "thassits 'ead. 'Nd arms. Fuck, they got little _legs_." he beams, pointing to grey, blurry picture, "'Nd they're ours. This is _ours_ , 'Arry. Look what _we_ did."

Harry can't even tear his eyes away from the image long enough to look at the younger man, but he stares at this tiny, tiny little person and he doesn't feel quite so hesitant anymore.

But then again, he could just be on very good antidepressants.

Harry nods and stares at the image in obvious fascination as Eggsy laughs and places a kiss on his temple.

~

"So," the doctor says, politely smiling at them both, "if you're both ready I can give you the rundown on what to expect in your fifth month--"

Harry looks up from the little gray image and blinks at the physician. He'd almost forgotten he was there, and that they were in the medbay at all. The last ten minutes had been like a bubble, only containing Harry, Eggsy and the little photo. Everything else has been distant and muted and simply didn't matter.

"Yes, please." Harry says, snapping back to the present and glancing at the younger man standing next to the bed he's seated on.

He's taken to absently rubbing Harry's back.

Harry guesses that Eggsy's natural subconscious reaction is to comfort him.

He blinks back the sudden rush of intense fondness and _love,_ and tries to focus on what the doctor is saying.

"Well, for one thing, weight gain. You'll also start experiencing backaches due to the gravity of the baby as they grow. My initial checkup shows that the birth canal is starting to form quite nicely, so expect some soreness as your body creates that new opening in preparation for birth." Harry's face colors slightly, but the man just looks at his medical chart and continues, "Cravings also, so be on the lookout for that." He rattles off, and Harry finds himself immediately annoyed with the impending discomfort already, but Eggsy beams and presses even closer to him.

"You might start to feel your baby move due to their development of limbs and the beginnings of their fine motor skills, though it will take a little longer for them to start kicking." His eyes scan more of the chart, "I advise you sleep on your side, just so blood flow isn't hindered by any pressure. You'll also experience some dizziness should you try to get up too quickly. Don't worry, that's normal. Basically, everything looks fine." He finishes smiling politely at them, "My only issue is that this initial checkup was done so late. So now I'm scheduling for you to meet with me at least once every two weeks, just to make sure everything is alright. You're also a bit underweight Mr. Hart, so _eat_." He shrugs, "I've been told that's the fun part of pregnancy so enjoy it."

Eggsy nods then shakes the doctor's hand and asks for more copies of the sonogram picture.

"Of course." He smiles, and when he leaves them alone, Harry gives him a quizzical look.

"Mum'll kill me if I don' give 'er a copy." Eggsy shrugs, "Plus, I wanna have one to carry 'round with me."

Harry manages a soft laugh, "Ah, understood."

Eggsy places a hand on his stomach and kisses his forehead.

"Everythin's gonna be alright, love."

Harry believes him.

~

Harry never really gave medication much thought. Pain medication? Sure. But the antidepressants prescribed to him are another matter entirely. This is completely new ground, so he isn't quite sure how he's supposed to feel after he takes them. Of course the pills came with packets and booklets full of side effects and information, and Eggsy had sat down and read every word as Harry dozed on him on the couch, but Harry himself chooses to remain blissfully oblivious.

He just takes them.

And slowly notices a difference. More energy, for one. Less longing to be unconscious for hours on end. More of an appetite  (which he's grateful for, because forcing himself to eat when he doesn't want to sounds like _misery_ ), more... _will_. _Motivation_. Things are actually starting to reach him now.

If anything, he's a bit jittery. But he'll take that over the alternative. 

Eggsy notices Harry looking at the little gray picture of their baby when he thinks he's not watching. And he's fucking _thrilled_ because that haunted look in Harry's eyes in regards to his pregnancy is ebbing away, and now he's catching Harry looking at the sonogram picture with a sort of hesitant fascination and awe. He'd even dare to call it excitement.

The younger man's heart could burst.

The rest of their Sunday is spent happily soaking up each other's company in a quiet, reverant silence that is neither uncomfortable nor unwanted. It's quiet and simmering with affection in the air and Eggsy breathes a sigh of relief.

They'll be okay.

~

On Wednesday, when Daisy has been taken home and Eggsy is loosening his tie in the mirror of their bedroom, Harry quietly says, "I think I want a balcony."

Eggsy stops, and looks at him in a silent question.

"For our new house." Harry hesitantly clarifies, "I want a balcony." 

They're both silent for a moment.

Then in a whirlwind of motion Eggsy is in front of him in a second, holding his face and capturing his lips in a gentle but earnest kiss.

"Anythin' you want. _Anythin_ '."

The younger man beams because _this_ , those few words Harry has just said mean so much. It means _progress_. He's starting to _have_ and _voice_ his preferences and that means he's _present_. He's here.

Harry's _here_.

He doesn't let the older man go for a while.

~

And it continues.

Eggsy has the privilege of watching the life seep back into Harry again.

It's slow, but the passive and distant demeanor ebbs away bit by bit. More every day.

He offers Harry tea, and while he used to accept no matter what, now he says no when he doesn't feel like it.

Eggsy asks if Harry wants to watch television. Not too long ago Harry would have just wordlessly agreed with that empty look in his eyes. Now he usually shakes his head and says 'No, I'd rather read a book, thanks.'

He makes an offended, disgusted and slightly indignant noise when Eggsy pops some gory shooting game into his ps4 and starts playing.

He complains about the volume of the television and of Eggsy's music.

Eggsy is fucking _thrilled_.

Because now Harry has _opinions_. He knows what he wants to eat and drink and how he likes his tea. He knows that no, he isn't fond of game shows Eggsy, please change the channel, and yes, he would like for Eggsy to wake up and get him some curry in the middle of the night.

It's fucking _magical_. Harry, this man he loves and loves and loves, this man who frustrates him and drives him mad, this man who saved him and fought when Eggsy tried to do the same, this man who is probably the most sharp and witty and attractive person he's ever met, is no longer a passive shell. He's warm and pink and _alive_. Blood running through his veins and emotion starting to simmer under his skin again.

He laughs when Eggsy tells him how he ended up getting some cut on his arse from an unfortunate bullet graze while taking down a small band of arms dealers. 

Harry laughs when JB wiggles in his arms and moves to lick his face when Eggsy officially brings him to live with them.

He kisses Eggsy of his own volition. Just when and because he feels like it.

Harry criticises the actors' technique when they are shown handling firearms on TV shows. Eggsy grins, and tightens his hold around the man's shoulders. He can no longer stand the smell of Eggsy's cologne, so the younger man switches to something that doesn't make his lover nauseous. 

He's alive.

Harry Hart is alive.

~

"Mommy says you and Eggsy are having a baby." Daisy squeaks one morning, after Eggsy leaves.

Harry has moved their little daycare operation to his office, where he can annoy Merlin into giving him the work he would be doing as Arthur if he were actually at HQ.

The quartermaster finally relented, giving Harry the latest mission reports to look over with a tense 'I'm only doing this because I know you'd end up here in person to harass me if I didn't.'

So he looks up from his laptop where he's reading about Lancelot's successful obliteration  (and yes, he can say obliteration, because really, the young woman left _nothing_ standing) of a human trafficking ring being disguised as a valet business in Costa Rica and looks at the young girl staring at him with a wide smile and bright eyes.

He blinks at her and smiles softly at the little girl brimming with energy, "Yes. We are."

She bounces on her feet, giggling, "Babies are so cute and squishy!"

Harry huffs a laugh, "Yes, well, you're right about that."

"When will it be here?" She asks nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

"In a few months." He says, "December."

Her face falls, "But that's so far away."

Harry closes the laptop and stands, wincing at the slight pressure on his back. He picks her up, "Well, they aren't ready to come out yet."

She pouts for a second until her face lights up again as Harry carries her downstairs, "But the baby will be here for Christmas!" she gasps, "Like a present!"

"Yes," Harry laughs lightly, "like a present."

He sets her down in the kitchen and she follows him around asking questions as he makes her toast.

"Can I play with them when they're here?"

"Of course."

"You and Eggsy will still play with me too, right?"

"Oh, we couldn't ever forget about you, miss Daisy. You're incredibly special to us and we'll love you all the same."

"Oh okay...so the baby is growing in your belly right now?"

"Yes. Slowly. But yes. They can hear what's going on, too."

"So the baby can hear me?!"

"Yes, they can."

"Hi, I'm Daisy and I'm fun to play with, don't worry." She says, leaning into Harry and speaking the general direction of his stomach. Harry would laugh if the little girl didn't look so serious. Like her being a good playmate is all the baby should be concerned about upon being born.

~

The next therapy appointment a lot like the last except for the fact that Merlin fucking _forgot_ to mention that his therapist also doubles as a _physical_ therapist as well.

Harry going to find the bald man and kill him.

So instead of just spewing out his feelings like he anticipated, Harry also ends up being asked to catch soft rubber balls thrown at him to test his reflexes, or being asked to try to grasp a moving object.

"Ah, you seem to favor your right side." the man tells him, brow furrowing, "Try always reaching just a tad bit more to the left. It will feel odd because you will think you're going to miss whatever you are trying to grasp, but trust me, pull your hand to the left just a bit more."

He does. 

And...he gets it. And then again. And again.

Harry is also told that his reflexes aren't as poor as he thought (though after the Dean incident he suspected as much), and after a few more short and simple exercises is then informed that Merlin is on his way to speak to him about something.

Harry nods and contemplates giving the man a hard time for his deception, then decides against it.

The quartermaster arrives and turns to Harry, sporting that same severe look on his face as he always does, and hands Harry a pair of glasses without a word.

He reluctantly takes them, and the doctor smirks and excuses himself, leaving Merlin to take his seat and for Harry to look at the glasses in his hand and ask, "What the hell is this?"

"They're glasses." Merlin says, eyes narrowed.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Put them on."

"Why?"

The quartermaster sighs in exasperation, "Just put the fucking glasses on, Harry."

He huffs and considers arguing a bit more, but instead looks at the glasses in his hand (they look just like his standard Kingsman pair which only adds to his confusion) then puts them on.

The first difference is that they activate automatically.

Harry looks though the lenses in awe as the interface sets up, scans his good eye and confirms his identity.

Harry Hart

Codename: Arthur

ID#: 5934625

His ID flashes through the lenses before the view clears and Harry can see the room clearly again. 

A few other things are different as well.

The colors of the room are sharper, and when his gaze lingers too long on the bookcase, the spectacles take the initiative and zoom in and suddenly he's seeing every small word on the spine of the dusty psychology book. 

 _The lenses are tracking his eye movements._ And they're magnifying what they think he's trying to see better.

"Shit." Harry breathes, blinking and looking around.

"While that _is_ a catchy name for it I'll have to refer to it as my greatest creation instead." Merlin smirks, "Reach for something."

Harry does.

And as soon as he moves his arm into his view, the lenses set up what looks like...a vivid, teal, dotted path.

Harry furrows his brows and watches as the glasses predict what he wants to grasp, and as it sets up a virtual path of dotted lines before his eyes so he knows exactly where to extend his hand.

Harry picks up the lone pen on the desk with no trouble at all. Smaller objects are usually so much harder, but Harry just...picks up the slim writing utensil with ease.

"They're new." Merlin says, obviously proud of himself, "I tailor made them to suit you and what I thought you would need. Eggsy helped too, giving insight on what you seemed to be struggling with. That's the only reason you got away with not attending your doctors appointments for such a long time. I was _busy_."

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it and blinks at the quartermaster (who's now looking down at his clipboard and busying himself with something else).

He isn't great with emotions in other regards, but for gadgets--something so _familiar_ \--being genuinely grateful (and honestly, extremely touched by the gesture) isn't a foreign or awkward concept.

"Thank you, Merlin." Harry says looking at his friend, "Truly."

"Not a problem. Anything that helps in getting you back in the field."

The room falls into silence. And Harry's breath hitches. He wonders if he's heard him right, and opens his mouth before snapping it shut and furrowing his brow.

Harry looks at him in confused shock, until the silence makes itself known to the other man and he looks at Harry before rolling his eyes.

"You _can_ be Arthur and still take missions, you know." He says, "Chester didn't because he didn't want to get his hands dirty, and that was his choice. If you're willing to pull double duty in both roles, you can be Arthur _and_ an agent. They aren't mutually exclusive, Harry. It _has_ been done." The man raises an eyebrow, "Washington, the leader of our American branch does the same thing. My point is, you don't _have_ to rot behind a desk. Provided you make a full recovery, I mean. And after your mandatory paternity leave."

"I...hadn't considered that." Harry replies hesitantly. 

"Yeah, because you're a drama queen." Merlin says, distracted by his clipboard again. The quartermaster sighs and looks at Harry before he says, "Percival ran into the yakuza in France. I have to go monitor this. Get better, Arthur. We need you."

Then he's gone.

And then Eggsy is taking his hand and kissing him softly.

~

The next week, Eggsy panics for about an hour before he realizes that Harry's stormy mood isn't because of an emotional relapse, but because his back hurts like _hell_ and he seems to be getting bigger every day. Eggsy soothes him, and they continue living life.

And everything is getting _better_.

Until an extremely frightened, weak and pale Harry Hart shakes him awake and Eggsy snaps back into consciousness and catches sight of the pool of blood spreading from under him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?


	29. Chapter 29

"Placental abruption." The doctor says.

Placenta peeling off of the walls of the womb and possibly depriving the fetus of oxygen and nutrients.

And causing severe bleeding in the parent.

Eggsy sits in the waiting room outside of the Kingsman medbay, hunched over in a chair that he's been sitting in so long that it's bordering on uncomfortable with his elbows on his knees and hands fisted painfully in his hair. Every now and again he runs a hand down his face.

He bites his lip until it bleeds.

He can't catch his breath.

He can't fucking function because it's _Harry_ in there. And he was so _pale_ and his pulse was so _shallow_.

He could lose him.

And he seems to have choked on the pure _terror_ and white hot protective _fury_ because he's snapped at everyone he's had to speak to, and he was nearly about to claw the doctor's face off when he said that Eggsy had to wait outside. Eggsy'd almost knocked out their driver and taken the wheel because he wasn't driving fast enough and _oh god HarryHarryHarryHarry--_

He can fucking hear the machines and the doctors talking in hasty and sharp voices. He can hear them frantically trying to save his lover's life and he's two clicks from either breaking down in sobs or fuckin' screaming until he pops a blood vessel. Eggsy's jaw is clenched so firmly and painfully shut that his teeth radiate pain through his face, and he can tell he's gone red.

The waiting room is silent except for Eggsy's quick, heavy, shaky breathes and the sound of his fingernails scraping down his scalp.

The trembling hasn't stopped, not when Harry woke him up and not when they'd gotten him to the medbay. Not even when Merlin showed up, put a hand on his shoulder and told him that they had the best doctors in there with him. 

He can't accept the comfort.

Merlin wasn't _there_. He didn't have to _see_.

~

"This is Merlin. Galahad, what's wrong?"

" _Fuck_!" Eggsy snaps, voice dripping with _fearandfearandfearandfearandfear_  "Merlin we need a _fuckin_ ' doctor. Fuckin' _now_."

"Sending Kingsman emergency medical assistance and transport your way right now." Merlin responds quickly, tone icy and gravely serious, "Galahad, what's happened?"

" _Shit_...Merlin," the younger man starts, "It's Harry he's bleedin' 'nd pale and he passed out--"

"Stay calm, Galahad." Merlin snaps at him, "You're no help to Arthur if you can't keep your head."

"No! You don't fuckin' understand...fuckfuck fuckfuckfuck!" Eggsy gathers Harry in his arms and his heart feels like it might burn out, " 'e's so fuckin' pale and _he aint wakin' up, Merlin_! _Shit_. There's so much blood. 'is pulse is almost fuckin' non existant _where the fuck is the medical team?!_ " Eggsy shouts, and god, he's feeling every negative emotion he ever could. Anger, fear, terror, frustration, fury.

He's almost nauseous with horror and worry.

_nonononononononono not Harry not again not Harry he's too importantspecialsmartamazing ilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehimilovehim--_

"ETA is 5 minutes." Merlin answers.

"Make it 2." Eggsy snaps, tightening his hold on Harry and looking down at his startlingly pale face. Blood stains his hands but he couldn't care less. Nothing could stop him from hugging Harry to himself and kissing his cheeks over and over, telling him to hold on.

~

Eggsy groaned when Harry shook him the first time. He also groaned the second time. 

By the third attempt to wake him, his eyelids flutter open the slightest bit and he inhales a slow sleepy breath and--

the air is...metallic?

He sits up, and yawns, looking around. His first thought is that Harry has woken up with a craving and needed Eggsy to get him something, but Harry's said nothing in the few seconds since Eggsy'd sit up, and he hears shaky, shallow breaths coming from Harry's side of the bed.

Eggsy rubs his eye with one hand and turns on the light with the other.

He notices several things at once, and it's all enough to throw him into a frenzied panic.

The thing he notices first is Harry sitting up, just barely. He looks like he's having trouble keeping himself upright. His automatic response is to reach out to him, and place a firm hand on his back to steady him, protective instincts automatically taking over.

The next thing Eggsy notices is that Harry's skin has gone white as a sheet.

Panic thuds in his chest. Shit had hit the fan. He has no idea _what_ shit exactly, but something is really fucking wrong.

The third thing is what he sees when he glances down at the bed itself. When he'd sat up the blanket slipped down, and now that the mattress and sheet are in clear view he sees the sickening red of blood. There's _blood_.

A lot.

It's pooling under Harry and Eggsy keeps a firm hand on Harry before he frantically snatches his kingsman glasses off the nightstand and shoves them on his face.

He holds Harry and watches him pass out.

The fear and panic make his voice crack as he shouts, "Merlin!"

_helphelphelphelphelphelp_

Eggsy feels likes he's dying. Like his heart is being carved into. 

~

" _Fuck_ , Eggsy?" 

He only looks up long enough to see Roxy running into the waiting room and looking around for him, hair flying wildly.

Eggsy would call out to her, but he's using all of his strength just to keep from destroying this room and every bit of furniture in it. 

It's only barely working.

He knows when she finds him though, because he hears the light, clicking footsteps of her favorite oxfords, and feels a familiar hand on his shoulder.

"Eggsy?" Roxy asks, voice tinged with concern, "What the fuck is going on?"

 And _that's_ what puts the fire in his veins. Eggsy finds himself on his feet, pacing and running a hand through his hair. His muscles are wound tight like springs, and his body language screams 'don't fucking come near me or I won't be responsible for what I'll do'.

"'arry just started fuckin' _bleedin_ '." He says shakily, fear and anger making him tremble "Fuck Rox, 'e was so fuckin' _pale_." 

"Shit." She breathes, and she subconsciously mirrors Eggsy and runs a hand through her messy, sleep knotted hair, "Fucking hell, Eggsy."

"Wouldn't wake up." He continues, "Pulse was so fuckin' _faint_."

"Well do they know what the fuck _happened_? ", Roxy asks.

"Doc said Placental abruption or sumfin' like that." He answers, biting into his lip again and trying not to scream, "I can't fuckin' lose 'im, Rox. I can't. Not again."

"Shut up, Eggsy." She snaps, "You won't."

"You didn't see 'im--"

"He's going to be fine." she says with finality, and if the fear wasn't about to kill him, he would almost believe her, "And when that doctor comes out that door and says that he'll be fine, you don't want to look a mess when he sees you. I understand that you're worried, but you have to keep it together, Eggsy. If you could see yourself you'd agree. Harry needs you to keep it together."

He takes a breath.

"And the baby is going to be fine and I'm going to be the godmother because I said so because _everything is going to be okay_."

She looks so serious and strict about this that Eggsy actually takes his hands out of his hair and instead folds them. 

Though he's sure he looks more like he's hugging himself.

"I just...I can't lose 'im, Rox." he says quietly, "Not 'im. I fuckin' _love_ 'im. 'nd he's who I want to spend the rest of my fuckin' life with. 'e don't deserve all... _this_." he says softly, looking down at the carpeted floor, "I just--I can't--"

Roxy puts her hands on his shoulders and looks him straight in the eye.

"You're _not_ going to lose him." she says firmly, eyes hard, "You're not going to lose him, Eggsy. You're not."

~

The sound of the door opening nearly makes Eggsy jump out of his skin and break his neck trying to rush to the doctor walking toward them. Roxy grips his arm in what he knows is her way of saying 'calm the fuck down or I'll make you'. 

He stays where he is, but he buzzes with angry and fearful energy. 

If this were anyone but Roxy he would have punched them in the stomach and ran to meet the physician halfway. 

But he takes a deep breath and tries not to bite the inside of his cheek until it bleeds.

The man walks up to them, and Eggsy uses the split second before he starts talking to frantically search his face for any indication of something horrible.

He's blank.

Eggsy could _scream_.

"He required minor surgery, but thankfully it seems you brought him to us just in time. He's lost quite a lot of blood, but we've rectified the placenta and the baby is fine. He'll be tired and weak for a few days, but he'll be okay. Though I suggest someone monitor his condition for the next few days and make sure he rests."

Eggsy lets out the breath he's been holding all night, and relaxes in pure relief. He plops down in his seat, and sags like a puppet with severed strings. 

He's okay. 

Harry will be okay.

Their baby is okay.

It's going to be okay.

The doctor smiles at him, and Roxy punches him lightly on the shoulder with a soft and smug, "I told you so."

"You can see him now, if you'd like." The doctor adds, "You can take him home in the morning."

Eggsy jumps up and nods before he breathes an unburdened sigh and shakes the doctor's hand.

"Thank you."

The man nods, before walking off into another wing of the medbay.

"Go see him." Roxy says with a hint of a smile, "I'll break into your home and bring you both some clothes. Harry will need them and you look like a right mess."

Eggsy hugs her quickly and tightly, "Thanks, Rox."

~

The hospital room is private, dark and silent save for the steady beeping of machines.

Eggsy doesn't have anything else on his mind other than taking the hand of the dozing man on the bed. Eggsy doesn't care to do anything other than press a soft, relieved kiss on his cheek.

All that matters is seeing the brown of his eye and hearing that small, tired, "Eggsy?"

The younger man smiles, "I'm 'ere. I'm always right 'ere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter tonight because I got started late and also I'm tired.
> 
> I can't believe this story ended up having so many chapters I'm so sorry.


	30. Chapter 30

"What's happened?" Harry asks weakly, voice quiet in the dark hospital room. 

Eggsy presses closer, and kisses his hand, "Whaddya remember?" 

Harry takes a slow, deep breath, and Eggsy cherishes the sight of his chest rising and falling.

"I woke up in pain. I didn't know what it was, but...it hurt quite a lot. Then the blood..." Harry says drowsily, trailing off.

Eggsy takes in the sight of the man on the bed, breathing slowly with his hair curled onto his forehead and he can't help but feel that intense rush of ' _holy shit I love you_ ' that he feels when he looks at Harry.

He's pale, looks like he's having trouble staying awake, and his voice is quieter than he's ever heard it.

He's the most beautiful thing Eggsy's ever seen.

"Everythin's okay, love." Eggsy murmurs, brushing a lock of curly hair away from his eyes, "Just some placenta issues 'n all that. It's okay."

Harry makes a small noise of contentment, "I apologize for frightening you." He says sleepily.

"Nothin' to be sorry for, 'arry." Eggsy assures him, "s'not like it's your fault. Everythin's alright. I'll be able to take you home in the mornin'."

After a moment Harry softly says, "I'd like to go home now."

"I know, love." Eggsy soothes, "But they gotta keep an eye on you for a few 'ours. Make sure nothin' else goes wonky, yeah? We'll be home 'fore you know it. Promise."

Harry manages a small nod, "Alright." then he sleepily asks, "Will you stay?"

And Eggsy's throat catches because he knows that Harry is talking about more than staying in the hospital with him for tonight.

"You ain't gonna be able to get rid of me." Eggsy tells him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "I'll always stay. No matter what."

~ 

In an ironic example of life coming back full circle, Harry wakes to find himself in hospital, with Eggsy pressed close--having gotten in bed beside him--and it's just like the position he found himself in in that hospital in Guyana. Except this time Eggsy knows everything. There are no secrets.

If Harry can say nothing else, he can say his life is interesting and oddly amusing, at least.

He'd wanted to leave the room and go home last night, but Harry opens his eye and Eggsy's arm around him is so strong and warm that he doesn't want to move.

~

And like all good things, they must come to an end.

Harry doesn't know he's fallen back asleep until he's woken up by a smiling Roxy, and he tries not to be foolishly prideful or embarrassed when she takes the initiative and helps him sit up. 

He's not sure what time it is, but he figures it can't be too much later than when he awakened the first time, judging by the sunlight still streaming in through the windows.

The entire medbay is empty, save for Roxy and himself, and he silently looks on as the young woman digs through what he recognizes is an overnight bag from his home. 

She's in one of her red plaid blazers, jeans, oxfords and all, and Harry can't help but appreciate the fact that at least _one_ of them is properly dressed and doesn't look like they've been run over by a train. And then backed up over by said train.

It's the little things, be supposes.

That doesn't change the fact that he would really like to not be concious right now. And not even because he's usually being a sad, useless wanker, but because he's _actually_ exhausted. He feels fine, emotionally, but he's so tired he could fall right back to sleep.

How many times has he even _been_ in the hospital this year? He _has_ to have set some sort of record for most hospitalizations by an agent not taking missions.

Shit. At least give him a medal or _something_. 

A certificate, at least. 

"Eggsy's getting the car ready." Roxy says casually, and he notes that she doesn't seem to feel strange about helping Harry when he doesn't have much of a relationship with her at all, "Oh, here."

She hands him the antidepressants and the vitamins along with a cup of water. He thanks her quietly, takes them, and tries not to just say fuck it all and go back to sleep.

"You gave us a scare." She smirks at him.

He blinks at her, "Well, you know, I get rather bored every once in a while and decide to almost bleed out just to shake things up."

She tries and fails to stifle a laugh, "I don't know who was more of a mess, you or Eggsy."

"Definitely Eggsy." he answers with a grin.

"Oi!" Eggsy says in mock offense from where he appears by door.

The younger man is in one of his tracksuits (and honestly Harry is torn between finding and burning all of them or letting them survive because of something that feels like sentimentality. They do have an odd kind of charm, he must admit), and a cap.

"Gone for five minutes 'n I'm bein' slammed." He says dramatically, "I'm wounded."

Roxy rolls her eyes and picks up the overnight bag, hoisting it on her shoulder. And only then does Harry see the neatly folded, fresh clothes that have been brought for him, on the chair next to his bed.

He's also thankful that he's pregnant in colder weather, when sweaters and coats aren't suspicious. The layers make him feel more--fuck, he doesn't know--protected?

Something about the layers make him feel better and not like his stomach is exposed and vulnerable to the outside world. It makes absolutely no sense, and he knows this, but he can't help it.

Roxy says she'll meet them in the car and Harry thanks her. She waves him off and he catches sight of a blushing Merlin by the door watching the young woman as she walks toward him.

The quartermaster turns and follows her like a puppy.

Harry tries to hide a smirk. 

Eggsy captures his attention with a kiss.

~

Harry just raises an eyebrow when he ends up in a cab next to Eggsy and finds that it also contains Merlin and Roxy as well.

He doesn't mind, he really doesn't. He's sure he'll have Eggsy to himself soon enough, and honestly he _does_ miss the company of his colleagues quite a bit.  

Harry barely hears their chatter as Eggsy wraps an arm around his shoulders and the older man dozes against him.

~

Michelle and Daisy are sitting on the couch when they enter, and Harry barely has time to notice that he's never had Merlin over in all these years before he has a frantic Michelle fretting over him along with a big eyed little girl slipping her hand in his.

"Oh God, are you alright?" Michelle asks, worry in her eyes, "Eggsy called me in a right panic last night talking about bleeding and I had no idea if--"

Eggsy takes his hand and helps him to the couch, Michelle, Roxy and Merlin trailing after them in some deadly-spy-and-concerned-mother parade.

"I'm alright, Michelle. Thank you for your concern." Harry tries to assure her, though he's so tired he could fall asleep right in front of her, "Just a minor problem. It's been rectified."

The thing about _good_ mothers is that you can say you're completely fine and they'll still act like you've caught a bullet. They'll fret over _anyone_ , even if they're not her child. Even if they're her child's pregnant-- _fuck_ , what even are they? Boyfriends sounds juvenile and lovers sounds far too dramatic--partner. So Harry isn't too surprised when Michelle still looks like she's 3 clicks from wrapping him in bubble wrap to avoid further catastrophe.

Instead she clasps her hands together and gives him an intense, considering look.

"Tea. I'll make you tea." She says, and before Harry can tell her he's fine, she's gone.

"Yeah you're just gonna haveta let 'er mother hen you for a while." Eggsy says, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "There's no stoppin' 'er. Just let 'er do what she's gonna do."

Daisy crawls onto Eggsy's lap while Roxy and Merlin chatter by the kitchen doorway. 

~

Eggsy is waiting,  Harry knows he is.

The boy stays in the house and watches him like a hawk in the days following the crisis, and he knows exactly what Eggsy's looking for.

A breakdown. A sign that Harry is going back to how he used to be when he wasn't...well.

But honestly, Harry can say he's...fine. Optimistic, even. The antidepressants are obviously helping, and his biggest complaint is the stress being pregnant is putting on his back, how much he's eating and the fact that the surgery left bruises that annoy more than hurt him.

Even so, Eggsy demands he stay in bed, and really, Harry is a bit too tired and sore to fight.

So he concedes. The next few days are spent with Eggsy keeping his eyes glued to him and appearing at his side every time he lets out a noise of discomfort or gives off the air of being even _slightly_ unhappy.

"You _do_ know I'm fine." Harry tells him with a light smile. 

Eggsy fidgets where he stands, having rushed over at breakneck speed when Harry so much as huffed.

"I know, but--just wanna be sure, yeah?" Eggsy says shrugging.

"If you keep worrying so much you'll go gray before me." Harry says.

And like he does all the time these days, Eggsy's eyes light up when Harry says anything in that faint tone of amusement that proves he's getting better.

"Yeah well, I'm gonna be a dad." Eggsy says, eyebrows raised, "Might as well get used to it." 

Harry rolls his eyes and waves him forward, "Come here."

Eggsy's at his side in a second, sitting on the bed next to him, eyes glued to Harry.

"I'm fine. _Do_ please relax." Harry says, taking hold of his hands and giving him a soft smile.

Smiling is easier these days.

"It's just--fuck." Eggsy says, gripping Harry's hands tight, threading their fingers together, "I almost lost you. Scared the shit outta me."

"I know. I'm sorry." Harry says, looking at their hands.

"Well it ain't _your_ fault." Eggsy says, rolling his eyes, "I'm gonna 'ave to obsess over you a bit to make me feel better I guess."

Harry tries to hide a smile, "That's fine."

Eggsy laughs and moves further into Harry's space, wrapping an arm around him.

"Yeah, I _bet_ it is." Eggsy growls playfully, and Harry huffs a laugh as the boy kisses him.

~

"Wanna go out with me?" Eggsy asks out of nowhere, his head rested on the part of Harry's stomach that isn't yellow with healing bruises.

Eggsy plays a video game, and Harry reads a book while he runs his free hand through the boy's hair and ignores the noise.

He blinks down at him, "And go where, pray tell?"

Eggsy looks up at him and grins with bright eyes, "Dunno. To a restaurant or sumfin'. I wanna take you out." 

"And why all of a sudden?" Harry asks him, resuming with carding his hand through the silky strands of the boy's hair.

"Dunno. Can't 'elp but think we missed a coupla steps, is all. I never got to properly date you." He says.

"Well, to be fair, we don't really lead the most normal of lives." Harry responds,  "I believe we are to be held to a completely different standard in comparison to couples who, say, work a nine to five in an office."

"Yeah, but..." Eggsy looks up at him thoughtfully, "I'd just like to spend as much time with you as possible."

Harry frowns, "I'm not going anywhere. And you've made a point to make sure I know that you aren't either."

"I know," the younger man says, "there's just so much I wanna do with you."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that, so he just kisses him and tells him, "I'll follow your lead."

Eggsy beams.

~

They don't go to a restaurant. At least, not right away. Instead, they find themselves on the London Eye

Eggsy has Harry's hand, and Harry looks down at the city glittering in the evening below them.

"I fucking love you." Eggsy breathes, watching as the city lights reflect in Harry's glasses.

Fuck. He's _beautiful_.

Harry looks at him in muted surprise, eyebrows raised. Eggsy doesn't recant his confession though. He doesn't even care if Harry doesn't say it back, he just needed to tell him. He needed him to _know_.

"Did you just say you love me?" Harry asks.

And Eggsy looks at him, _really_ looks at him. Harry's hair has grown out a bit, and the appointments at the barbershop can't quite keep up with the pregnancy hormones that are making the curls thicker and shinier. He's in his new Kingsman glasses, and his stomach is obvious under his black coat. He's looking at Eggsy with an expression of hopeful surprise.

Harry's his. They're having a baby. They're going to get a house.

He thinks about how Harry can't seem to stop being a smart arse if he tried, and how he slips JB extra dog treats when he thinks Eggsy isn't looking. How Harry wakes him up and asks him to go out at 3 am for whatever food he's woken up craving. How Harry--surprisingly--also kind of likes that band PVRIS Eggsy can't stop listening to. How he doesn't quite get (or like) Eggsy's video games, but listens to him talk about them anyway. How Harry looks when he sleeps. How Harry tastes. How Harry feels.

"Yeah." Eggsy answers, looking him in the eye and squeezing his hand, "Yeah, I do. You ain't gotta say it back or nufin' 'cause I'm okay with--"

"I love you too." Harry says, looking at him like it should be obvious. Eggsy's mind blanks out for a moment.

Harry kisses him.

~

And few days later they actually go to a restaurant. Harry chooses it, so of course it's some posh place that has foods Eggsy has never even fucking _seen_ before.

But Harry laughs at the face he makes when he opens the menu, so it's perfect.

~

The day after that, Eggsy takes Daisy to watch the sunrise in the park. He takes his sleepy sister from his mother and totes her to their destination, perched on his hip. She sleepily blinks until she sees the pinks, purples and yellows of the sun coming up over them, then she's awake and happily pointing out every color like Eggsy isn't right there with her looking at the same thing.

"Yeah, Dais! It's pink!"

He takes Daisy back home and she tells Harry all about it.

~

Harry's therapy is going strangely well. He'd figured that focusing on his problems for an hour would upset him rather than help him.

He's wrong.

He's happy to be wrong.

~

"So," Eggsy says, plopping down next to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders, "I found a few options for 'ouses. They're really nice."

"They aren't too big, are they?" Harry asks, looking at him.

Eggsy sets a hand on his stomach, rubbing soothing circles, "Dunno, what's your idea of big? Why'do you ask?"

"Houses that are too big are...cold, I've found." Harry says, redirecting his attention to the article he's reading, "Especially with so few people in it. It's almost as if people want to have as little contact with each other as possible so they buy a comically large space."

Eggsy doesn't have to ask how he came up with that theory. It's obvious enough.

He presses a kiss to Harry's temple, "Alrigh'. Not too big 'nd a balcony. Got it."

Harry smiles down at his newspaper and Eggsy lays his head on his stomach and turns on his video game.

~

Merlin makes Eggsy take paternal leave. Or, in Merlin's words, "Spend some bloody time preparing to be a fucking dad instead of possibly getting your dumb arse blown up."

The younger man is torn between arguing and happily fucking off, going home and wrapping himself around Harry. 

He does a mixture of both. He also gets back at Merlin's smart arse by taking Roxy with him.

Eggsy smirks and doesn't miss the quartermaster trying to disguise his annoyance when Eggsy leaves with the person he's obviously trying to make a move on.

"So have you thought about names?" Roxy asks, sipping tea and curled up in an armchair.

"Not yet." Eggsy says, a light smile on his lips, "Dunno if we wanna know the gender yet or wait'll it's a surprise."

"Okay but consider this--"

"I know exactly what you're gonna say--"

"--what about naming them Roxy--

"--that's _not_ gonna 'appen--

"--because it's a _beautiful_ name--"

"--I can't believe this--"

"--and _I'm_ amazing--"

"--good god--"

"--and the little thing would _love_ to be named after their amazingly, sucessful, smart and deadly godmother, yeah?"

Eggsy rolls his eyes and can't stifle a laugh.

~

Recovery isn't linear, Harry's learned. Yes, he's better overall, and therapy (both physical and emotional) are doing wonders, but sometimes his hands still shake so much he drops something, or he suddenly gets so hysterically distraught for a few moments that he clenches his jaw and cries or throws a teacup.

He still has days where it's hard to look at his own face. Or shake the phantom feeling of the Kentucky heat on his skin as pain explodes behind one of his eyes.

But Eggsy's there. He holds Harry's hands until they stop shaking, and he deposits Harry at the table when he walks in and finds Harry kneeling on the floor picking up the shards of something he's dropped or thrown. Eggsy sweeps up the shattered glass and porcelain, throws them away, and nothing is said about it.

When he senses that Harry is purposefully avoiding every mirror, he takes his face in his hands, removes his glasses and presses a kiss to his eye patch.

Harry's sixth months comes upon them, and things are seeming like they'll fall into place.


	31. Chapter 31

"I'm _sure_ I'm dying."

"You ain't _dyin_ '."

"I'm in _agony_."

"'arry, it's a _cold_."

"I never imagined it would be something like this that ends me. This is _clearly_ a personal attack from one of my _many_ enemies..."

"--You got it from _Dais_."

"Betrayed by someone closest to me." Harry groans, squinting at the little girl as she giggles, "Tiny traitor--"

"So dramatic--"

"--mini assassin--"

"Daisy 'n mum got over it in _two days_ \--"

"--pint-sized hitwoman--"

Daisy dissolves into laughter that only intensifies when Harry squints at her in fake betrayal.

Harry knows the cold is a minor thing. But that, combined with the fact that his back hurts most of the time now is making him slightly hysterical. The general exhaustion that suppressing his mood swings causes doesn't help either.

Daisy climbs on the bed next to Harry, and Eggsy sets the tea on the night-table as Harry squints accusingly at an incredibly amused Daisy.

"Look." Harry sniffles, "She's _laughing_ at me."

Daisy giggles and falls over. Eggsy rolls his eyes and smiles, poking her in the side. The girl wiggles and her laughing gets louder, echoing through the house.

~

Harry makes a pained noise that results in Eggsy hovering over him in less than a second. The younger man takes his hand--eyes glued to Harry's face with a look of concern--and looks like he's two breaths from calling Merlin.

"'arry? What's wrong? You alright? Do you need me to--"

"Fine." He winces, trying to sit up and giving Eggsy a half-hearted smile when the younger man leans in to help, "My back just aches, is all."

The formation of his birth canal and opening is also making the space between his legs extremely sore and sensitive, but he doesn't include that.

One pain at a time.

Eggsy places a hand on his lower back and holds him upright while he tries to alleviate some of the pain as he shifts positions.

"Maybe a bath, yeah?" Eggsy offers, pushing a lock of hair off Harry's forehead, "Ya think warm water would help?"

Harry sighs because yes, that would be nice, but it would also involve getting up, and he's not sure that he can manage that right now.

Eggsy makes the decision for him.

"C'mon." He says, grinning as he helps Harry stand.

He finds himself in the bathroom as Eggsy slowly strips him and peppers him with kisses, slipping out of his own clothes and helping Harry into the large bathtub.

He's right. The warm water helps.

Eggsy slowly kisses his shoulder and softly runs his lips over the skin of Harry's neck, feather light and gentle. He can feel the younger man's heartbeat. He can feel his breath ghosting over warm, wet skin.

Eggsy is so _warm_ , and _firm_ and Harry gives in pretty much immediately, turning and kissing him. The younger man wraps his arms around his waist--fingers skimming over his stomach--as their lips lock sweetly in the warm, scented water. Eggsy's lips are soft and wet and Harry sighs into his mouth in contentment and simmering arousal. Kissing him is one of Harry's favorite things to do, if he's being honest with himself.

He likes _tasting_ Eggsy.

His breath hitches when Eggsy growls and pulls him onto his lap, and they would be chest to chest if Harry's stomach wasn't getting in the way. 

Eggsy doesn't seem to mind.

The younger man nips at his collarbone and runs his hand over his skin.

Harry feels Eggsy hardening under him and can't cintrol the moan that escapes him before he kisses him deeper, licking at his clever tongue. The space between his legs is so _sore_ but the arousal is distracting him from it. It even makes the soreness of the developing opening feel _good_.

Eggsy wants Harry, as wet, warm and pliant as he is. He looks so fucking _beautiful_ like this, skin tinged pink from the water temperature, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and lips sporting bite marks that _Eggsy_ put there.

Fuck.

He kisses Harry's neck and gets to fingering him open, cock jumping at the breathy, desperate sounds Harry makes. Eggsy's other hand rests on his stomach, and he could come right now just from the _sight_ of Harry, all pregnant, wanting and fucking pretty, but if Eggsy is anything, he's stubborn and wants to be balls deep in him first. 

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." Eggsy breathes, voice husky, gripping Harry tighter and slipping another finger inside him.

That light gasp Harry lets out has Eggsy hungrily kissing him again, biting at the man's lips and licking onto his mouth. And then he's fucking clutching at Harry and whispering ' _mine_ ' before his thick cock breaches that tight ring of muscle and Eggsy is fucking into that wet heat.

And pregnancy hormones are really something else, Eggsy decides, because Harry is desperately gasping and moaning as Eggsy rolls his hips and his cock hits that place inside him that makes him see stars. Eggsy takes the initiative and does all of the work, rolling his hips into his pregnant lover and trying not to fucking come right then and there because _god_ , he can feel the developing wet, warm folds of the opening of Harry's birth canal rubbing against his cock. The younger man can't wait until its fully formed so he can feel how _that_ hole feels clenched tight, hot and wet around him too. 

Harry tenses in his arms, running his fingers through Eggsy's hair and crying out because yes it hurts but it _feels so good--_

"Fuck!" Eggsy moans as Harry comes with a cry, his hole tightening around him. The younger man tries to stave off his orgasm as long as he can because the feeling of being inside Harry is one he wants to savor and draw out for as long as possible. Harry moans--leaning into him and taking a shaky breath--when Eggsy frantically thrusts into him, overstimulation making him clutch the younger man tighter as he gasps out his name, before Eggsy wraps an arm around him--hips snapping up one more time--and comes with a groan.

~

That night they lay facing each other, Eggsy looking at Harry like he wants to commit every single one of his features to memory as the older man dozes.

Eggsy continues massaging his lower back to soothe him and alleviate some of the discomfort.

Eventually their breaths even out and they're asleep.

~

Harry finds himself talking to their baby sometimes. It's usually when the house is too quiet. When Daisy isn't around or Eggsy has gone to run some errands.

But he does.

Doesn't even notice it at first, really.

Eggsy has gone to the store, and Daisy has been picked up by Michelle for a trip to the doctor for a checkup, and the house is quiet. It's so rarely still these days that Harry ends up subconsciously filling the air with words.

"--Daisy will be an exceptional playmate for you, I'm sure--"

"--your father's name is Eggsy. Gary, actually. You'll love him as much as I do--"

"--we'll probably need to keep JB away from you for a while, seeing as he has a fondness for licking people's faces--"

"--I'll have to get rid of this coffee table when you arrive. Too many sharp edges--"

"--your father is going to be the one changing your diapers because _I'm_ doing all the work, currently--"

"--and I _do_ hope you're not allergic to anything--"

"--your grandmother Michelle is going to spoil you I can tell--"

"--your father likes loud music. He's going to have to enjoy it now because when you're here we'll be trying to keep you asleep--"

And then one day when he's in the middle of telling them how Eggsy put the kettle on the stove, forgot about it, then returned only to see the water had evaporated, he feels them move.

He winces in slight pain, but then Harry stops all movement, waiting. He partially thinks he's imagined it. But he stays still and barely breathes just to be sure--

Another kick. 

Not outward--more toward his major organs--but it's still an obvious sign of movement. 

And that's how Eggsy finds him, standing at the kitchen counter with a half prepared cup of tea, eyes wide.

The younger man basically drops the groceries and is at Harry's side at breakneck speed with a hand on his stomach and eyes glued to Harry's face, looking for any signs of pain or distress.

"What's wrong?" Eggsy asks frantically, frowning.

"I can feel them moving." Harry says after a moment, blinking at him.

Harry's awed expression puts him at ease and he grins, "Really?"

"Yes, it's the first time this has happened." Harry answers before he winces again, "And there it goes again."

Eggsy's eyes go impossibly wide and he beams, a hand on his stomach like he's waiting as well.

Harry winces again, "I don't think you'll be able to feel it yet. They aren't kicking outward so much as my insides."

Eggsy pouts before he bends--level with Harry's stomach, clearly talking to their baby--and says, "Rude."

~

It's like after the baby has discovered they can move and make themselves known, they decide to shift at every opportunity. 

Harry isn't unused to pain, it's just that he's never encountered pain in his insides _in this way_ before. And not for such a prolonged span of time. He's slightly miserable.

The movement had been interesting at first, but now he just wants to be able to sleep through the night without waking up because their child is having a temper tantrum while they're inside him.

They could at least _wait_ until they've come out to start throwing fits. Really, it's the _least_ they could do.

Harry awakens and lets out a sigh that's equal parts pain and annoyance, and mentally kicks himself when Eggsy stirs beside him. 

He didn't mean to wake him up. He never does, but Eggsy usually ends up blinking his eyes open at 2 am along with him when Harry is sitting up and trying to get their baby to settle down.

The child isn't even here yet and is robbing their parents of sleep. But then again, it is Harry and Eggsy's child. If any fetus could, it's the one they created.

"'arry? You alright?"

Harry smiles softly in the dark at Eggsy's sleep softened accent.

"Just some pain, is all." He tells him. Harry always hopes that Eggsy will go back to sleep and not lose any rest because of him. The boy never does, choosing to stay awake with Harry.

The younger man turns the lamp on, and looks at his lover beside him. He takes in Harry Hart--rounded stomach a bump under the blankets, hair slightly unkempt from sleep and reluctantly shaking away the last dredges of lethargy--and can't help the grin that spreads across his face because _he did that._

That's _his_ baby Harry is carrying. _He_ put that life inside of this beautiful, infuriating man. 

Every once and a while it hits him all over again.

Harry is _pregnant_. _He_ got Harry pregnant. Harry's having _his_ baby.

That re-realization has left him standing stock still in the supermarket (or wherever he happens to be) on many an errand run.

Fuck. Harry looks so good like this.

"Well, I'm glad _one_ of us is enjoying themselves." The older man grumbles when he sees Eggsy's smile. 

"I mean...it's just--this is fuckin' _amazin_ '." he beams as Harry gives him a withering look.

"Of course it is. For you." He says before he huffs,  "This is your fault."

"Wha--" Eggsy sputters as Harry looks at him accusingly, "I seem to recall _you_ was there too."

"Yes, but you only had to participate in the fun part."  

Eggsy flashes him a shit-eating grin, "It _was_ fun."

The older man gives him a slightly annoyed look. "Smart arse."

Eggsy grins wider and puts his hand on Harry's stomach as he does so often these days, and leans in.

"Hey there, lil bit. It's daddy." He murmurs, talking to their baby, "I know you're real excited, yeah? But I think mommy's going to kill daddy if he doesn't get enough sleep. So settle down if you wanna have _two_ parents when you get here, okay?"

He sits up and flashes Harry a smile, "That oughtta do it."

Harry shoots him a look of fond exasperation.

~

Harry thinks his sight has gotten better. Though he doubts that assessment when he comes downstairs one morning and finds Eggsy sitting in the armchair _reading a fucking pregnancy book_.

Harry stops, squints, puts on his glasses and squints again.

"What are you doing?" He asks, looking at the younger man in confusion.

Eggsy startles like he's just realized Harry was present.

"Fuck. Uh--," his face takes on a slightly red hue, "mornin' 'arry."

"Good morning." Harry says, "What are you doing?"

"Just...doin' some readin'." Eggsy says, trying to look innocent.

"Clearly." Harry replies, trying his damnedest to hide a smirk, "My real question is why are you reading that?"

The younger man accepts he's been caught and huffs, sitting back in the chair, "I just wanna know what to do if somethin' fucks up, is all. And apparently we should be plannin' a baby shower 'n all that."

"Is that so?" 

"Yep."

~

His back hurts something awful, but oddly enough, walks get his mind off of it, so they end up at the park with Daisy on most days.

They watch the girl play from their place on the bench, and Eggsy laughs with an amused, "Oh, _look_." when another little girl runs up to Daisy as his sister shrieks in happiness, recognizing her playmate from last time.

"Oh my god, she's _adorable_." The younger man smiles as the girl joins Daisy on the jungle gym.

A little black girl with curly hair.

"Oh," Harry muses, "it's little Grace. Daisy and I met her and her mother when we were here last. They're lovely."

Eggsy smiles softly, watching Harry. He's watching Daisy and Grace, cheeks flushed red from the cool temperature and stomach round and obvious even in his coat.

He presses a kiss to his cheek. Harry smiles.

"Gracie, _please_ slow down, you'll give mommy a heart attack."

April looks at her daughter in obvious fondness and mild concern. She's clearly doing that silent fretting that mothers do so well. Next to her is a man in a sharp suit, holding her hand.

"She's fine, babe." He tells her with a smile, "You worry too much. Little Grace is tough."

"If she skins her knee you're dealing with it." The woman shrugs before she catches sight of Harry.

"Oh, Mr. Hart, very nice to see you." She says, her husband looking on as she waves at him.

"Hello April, very nice to see you as well. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. And you?"

"I'm well, thank you."

"Oh, I'm glad. I see you're expecting, too. Congratulations!"

Eggsy squeezes his hand in pride and Harry smiles at her, "Thank you. Due in December."

"We're really excited." Eggsy adds, flashing a smile at Harry.

"That's _wonderful_. And again I _must_ say, congratulations!" April smiles, "This is my husband Steven." She adds, remembering that they haven't been introduced.

"Nice to meet you." The man says, smiling and shaking his hand.

"Very nice to meet you. This is my partner, Eggsy."

"Oh hello!" April says, shaking his hand. Steven greets him and does the same.

And then Harry sees it.

The man is wearing a suit. It's clean-cut and...tailored.

To perfection.

April wears a coat that is the same red as the one he's seen her in before, but this one has pinstripes and...a pin, on the lapel.

Her husband has the same one.

It's white, the circle twisting into an 'F'.

Kingsman has international subdivisions. They're all technically under the umbrella label of 'Kingsmen', but the American division is known and distinguished by another name.

Founding Fathers.

Their pin is a circle that twists into an 'F'.

Just like the ones on April and Steven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaay more kingsman!


	32. Chapter 32

Harry can feel when Eggsy notices a split second after he does, and he feels the younger man tense with realization and then relax in the company of more agents.

Harry can also see when the couple in front of them notices, and he has the thought that it really isn't too hard for someone to find out should they know where to look. Kingsman's approach has always been more 'hide in plain sight' than 'be as covert as possible'.

There is a huge fucking 'K' on the manor's lawn, for christ' sake, so they don't really go in for too much subtlety. People's ignorance (and the belief that spies of their nature only exist in movies) is oftentimes quite enough. They also never fight for credit when they complete a mission, so that helps too. A kingsman's goal is to keep accomplishments secret.

So he sees April's brown eyes wander over his glasses and signet ring, and Steven takes in the outline of Eggsy's gun tucked into the inner pocket of his tracksuit jacket. Again, no one would be able to notice unless they were trained and looking for it.

Harry also sees that Steve is carrying his own weapon, and April has one strapped to her thigh, though hidden by her coat. There are kingsman issued glasses poking out of her breast pocket. They are recognizable to Harry, though the design of the American spectacles are a bit slimmer and focused on looking a tad more modern. Still quite a handsome pair of glasses, just different from those of the U.K branch.

So they're all there, two spy couples, staring at one another in mild shock. Do they address this? Do they let it be? It's about who chooses to acknowledge it first. Another thing they all learned in training. When in doubt, let the other person make the first move, then adapt to accommodate (they are, first and foremost, gentlemen) or--in an enemie's case--adapt, overpower, then kill.

Agents running into each other by pure happenstance is rare. Which is a bit odd, seeing as there's so many of them all around the globe.

"Well, fuck." Steven says, faux English accent dropping in favor of his natural American one, "What are the fucking odds?"

The tension breaks.

"Fucking hell." Eggsy smiles, excitement in his eyes, "America, yeah?"

April nods, suddenly looking more relaxed. 

They all seem move closer together in a subconscious circle of security, all of them positioning themselves in such a way that no one else can hear them and so they can keep an eye on the two girls playing rather loudly on the swings in front of them.

It's simply training taking over again.

"What're you lot doin' here?" Eggsy asks, smiling like the most exciting thing possible has happened.

"Mission." April says, "Drug lords that ditched America and tried to start up over here."

"Needless to say it didn't work out for them." Steven adds, "We brought Gracie along because she's driving every babysitter crazy."

"Galahad and Arthur, by the way." Harry tells them, properly introducing themselves.

"Jefferson and Hamilton." April replies with a smile.

There's a bit of amused laughter when the sound of glasses beeping has them all checking their spectacles for a notification from their respective quartermasters.

It's April's. She quickly slips the slim glasses frames over her eyes.

"Franklin? No...seriously? We just left...Ugh, fine. You're such a nag. Bye."

She takes them off and folds them back into her pocket, looking mildly annoyed, "We're needed back at our temporary HQ to fill out mission statements, apparently."

Steven groans, "How about we just...I don't know... _not_ do that?"

"Franklin will kill us. He nearly throttled you last time."

"Fine." 

And Harry is incredibly amused because pushy quartermasters and the general loathing of mission reports are universal, it seems.

"Gracie, it's time to go, baby girl. It was wonderful to meet you." Steven says, picking up a pouting Grace as she wanders over to her parents, her curls windblown and her lip quivering.

"Indeed it was." Harry says, "We should have dinner, sometime."

"Oh, that would be nice." April smiles, "we'll definitely need to arrange that." She taps her glasses, poking out of her pocket, "We'll be in touch."

Daisy wanders over and gives Grace a sad look, "Bye Gracie."

The girl sniffles. "Bye-bye Daisy."

"You'll see each other again," Eggsy says, trying to cheer his sister up, "Real soon, okay Dais?"

She looks at her brother like she doesn't fully believe him and like her friend leaving is the worst thing in the world, but she nods, "Okay."

~

"We're probably gonna end up takin' lil bit along with us sometimes, too." Eggsy says later, running a hand through Harry's hair as they drift off to sleep.

"Possibly." Harry murmurs, leaning into the younger man's touch like a cat, "Nowhere is safer than with two parents who happen to be trained killers."

Eggsy snorts, "Yeah. Kid's gonna be the most well protected thing on the planet." He pauses, "'n...I was thinkin'..."

"Hm?" 

"That maybe next time we go to the medbay we could ask to know the baby's gender."

Harry opens his eye and blinks at him in the dark, "I thought we wanted to be surprised."

"Yeah, I know, but..." Eggsy mumbles, "I dunno...I'm just...fuckin' anxious, I guess. I wanna be _ready_ , ya know? With a name and everythin'."

Harry thinks about this for a moment before he nods, "Alright. I think I'd like to know also."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"...Harry?"

"Hm?"

"I'm really fuckin' glad I'm doin' this with you."

The older man huffs a soft laugh, "It took me a while to realize it, but yes, I'm glad to be doing this with you too, Eggsy."

~

The wait is making Harry nervous. He's not sure why, seeing as he's just sitting in a hospital bed in the medbay with an equally anxious Eggsy at his side holding his hand. He doesn't care whether it's a boy or a girl (and honestly, gender barely matters to Harry. It's as insignificant as hair or eye color), but he's sure when he learns it's going to be all the more real.

It already is, but soon he'll be able to more or less picture a little girl or boy with Eggsy's features mixed with his. 

"You alright?" 

Harry looks at the younger man, who looks like he's going to regurgitate everything he ate that morning.

"Yes. Are you? You look slightly green, Eggsy."

He manages a small smile, "'m fine. Just really wanna know. And fuck, this is really happenin', ain't it?"

"Seems so." Harry answers, smirking at him, "Though if this makes you squeamish I may have to suggest that you wait outside during the child's birth--"

"Over my dead body." Eggsy says fiercely, "It'll be a cold day in hell--"

Harry tries to stifle a laugh. He fails. The boy looks so seriously offended and upset that Harry takes one look at him and can't hide his expression.

"You were joking." The younger man says as soon as he realizes, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"Rather quick on the draw, aren't you?"

"You smart-arsed--" Eggsy starts, still trying to look offended while giving Harry a fond look and a nudge.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." The doctor says, interrupting them and walking over, "So, I was told on the phone that you'd like to know the sex of the baby?"

"Yeah." Eggsy answers, squeezing Harry's hand in his as the man looks down at Harry's medical file.

The doctors eyes scan the document, then he looks up at the pair.

"Congratulations, you two are having a baby boy." he says, looking up at them.

Eggsy lets out a breath and Harry feels the beginnings of a smile.

A boy.

A little boy.

"A baby boy." The younger man breathes, looking at him, "A boy, 'arry!"

"Congratulations." The doctor says, smiling and leaving them with their news.

~

"It's a boy."

"Eggsy?"

" _Mum_ ," he says into the phone, heart racing, "It's a boy."

"I'm having a grandson?" His mom asks shakily, and Eggsy has the faint inkling that she's going to start crying. And soon.

"Yeah, mum."

"Oh, Eggsy," She sniffles (and yep, Eggsy knows his mum. She's definitely crying), "oh, that's wonderful. You must come over soon and bring Harry, we should have a celebration dinner."

"Sure, mum." He smiles, "Sounds great."

She sighs, "A baby boy. He'll be _perfect_ , love."

~

"Oh my god, Eggsy!" Roxy smiles, "A boy?"

"Yeah, Rox."

She makes a small sound of excitement and hugs him tight.

"I'm going to teach him how to break someone's arms. And legs. First thing." She smirks, letting him go.

"If I don't first."

"Nope. I already called that one. It's off the table. The task has been taken. Find your own."

"You're unbelievable."

~

The seventh month is when Harry starts being ready to be about done being pregnant because that's when the _real_ kicking starts. 

"The doc said they can feel us when we rub your stomach, yeah?" Eggsy says before he does exactly that, "Settle down lil guy. Everythin's fine."

The baby just kicks at Eggsy's hand, which annoys Harry and thrills Eggsy.

"Shit, did you feel that!?" The younger man smiles.

"Yes." Harry sighs tightly, "I definitely felt it. Trust me."

"They sense when lights are on 'nd off now, ya know." The younger man says thoughtfully, waiting for another kick, "Like, they can see it, yeah? They got eyes now. 'nd they can hear us and everythin'."

Harry nods and lets out a breath, looking up at the ceiling. They've just come back from the doctor, and now Harry lays on their bed with a pillow under his back and his sweater hiked up to expose his swollen stomach. Eggsy seems enamored with the rounded part of him (and has his hands all over it as per usual) while Harry is just thrilled his back doesn't hurt, currently.

God, he feels horrible swollen _everywhere_. He's huge, and can barely walk properly. He's also starting to get migraines.

Which...worries him, a bit. Headaches during pregnancy are normal. But since last week, they've been migraines that are slowly increasing in pain and intensity. Harry doesn't know what it is, but he knows he doesn't want to alert anyone to it yet. It could be nothing. It could just be something that happens for a while then disappears.

So Harry hasn't said anything. It'll be fine.

"We can start thinkin' up names, now." The younger man says, "It ain't an easy decision, but we can start brainstormin'.

"Yes," Harry says, lifting a hand to softly trace his finger where Eggsy's hand rests on his stomach, "we should. I'm...not quite sure where to start, though."

"I guess most people start with if they wanna name them after one of their parents--" Eggsy starts.

"Well, in my case. Definitely not."

"Alright."

"Though if you'd like we could name him Lee, after your father." Harry suggests, searching Eggsy's face for any hint of sadness or discomfort.

"Hm...dunno." the younger man says, tracing a finger lightly on the stretched skin of Harry's middle, "It's a thought. But let's keep an ear out for any others, yeah?"

"Of course."

~

Merlin calls Eggsy in.

He clearly doesn't want to, seeing as it was him that officially put him on leave in the first place, but something's happened and Eggsy is needed rather urgently. 

No one will tell him what's going on, though. Eggsy just pales a bit when he gets the call, and when Harry demands to know what's happening, the boy simply kisses him and tells him 'not to worry 'n will you sit down, please?'

And before he can argue (which is something he fully intends to do, thank you very fucking much. He's _Arthur_ , for fucks sake.) he's being kissed again and Eggsy is gone.

"We don't need you stressing yourself, Arthur." The quartermaster says firmly, "We have Galahad, Jefferson and Hamilton. It's under control."

"Merlin--"

"Goodbye, Arthur. Rest."

Harry snatches off his glasses and considers heading to HQ anyway. Who could stop him? They couldn't stop him from hijacking a bloody _plane_ (pilot included).

Harry stands where Eggsy has left him in the middle of the bedroom. Shit, everything _aches_. He's forced to sit down.

He can't even stand for more than a few minutes at a time, and as much as he is absolutely _loathe_ to admit it (and he is very, very, _very_ unhappy to admit it), he would only get underfoot should he find his way to the Manor and interfere. He's no use to anyone. Not like this, and not for a while.

He lays down on Eggsy's side of the bed (and sue him, it smells like Eggsy and it's supremely comforting) and places a pillow on his back with some difficulty (and really, it should not be this hard just to _move_ ). He also feels the baby kick.

"I know." He says quietly in the silent, empty room, "I hope he's alright too."

~ 

It's 9 am.

The next morning.

Which means two things. One, Harry has fallen asleep. Two, Eggsy still hasn't come home.

The worry sets in again. Harry has been a sleep for quite a long stretch of time (though tossing and turning because there is no way to get a peaceful nights sleep with a baby kicking and just generally pitching a fit inside you), and he can't remember when the younger man been away this long. Harry suspects that Merlin has been keeping Eggsy on local missions so he doesn't have to away from Harry.

He doesn't think he's ever gone to sleep and woken up without Eggsy there. It's...lonely. The house is empty and all Harry can take in after such a restless nights sleep compounded with the anxiety for his lover's well-being is the fact that his hair is in his eyes.

Their baby doesn't even seem to be awake, judging by the lack of movement. 

Harry also feels the beginnings of another migraine. Wonderful.

He's extremely hungry, too.

_That_ , however, is something he can actually fix. He runs his hand through his hair and pushes the locks out of his face then struggles to his feet.

The stairs are a chore these days but he's eventually in the kitchen and honestly, wants to eat bloody _everything_.

He's been trying not to just eat mindlessly like most do when pregnant, because when he's not anymore he wants as minimal damage to repair as possible. But fuck, he's stressed,  _worried_  and about to call Merlin again and threaten the man for information. So he just tries to distract himself and eats whatever he wants. He's too worried to care.

Eggsy hasn't come home.

And Harry knows what being a kingsman agent requires. What sacrifices must be made. But it's quite different, being on the other side. There were times when Harry has been away for months at a time, but he'd had no one to worry about him. He could come and go without having to worry about soothing familial concerns. The last family member he ran into was an extremely distant aunt a few years ago, and all she'd asked is if he'd found anyone and had any children. He remembers his reply ("I promised my firstborn to an evil troll and don't want to give it the satisfaction of making good on the deal." he'd deadpanned).

He gets snippy when asked stupid questions. And why do relatives who know fuck all about you ask those questions anyway?

The point is, he'd had no one to worry about him apart from his fellow agents, and Merlin.

But Eggsy does.

And if--

His cellphone vibrates.

_I'm fine. Relax. Stop worrying._ _Love you._

Eggsy.

Harry opens and closes his mouth in surprise.

He swears the boy can read his mind. Even from miles away.

The baby kicks.

"And I take it you're awake, then?" He sighs, pressing a hand to his rounded stomach.

Another kick.

He also remembers that Michelle is taking Daisy to some mother-daughter arts and crafts event, so he has the day to himself.

Getting up to get food was tiring enough, so back to bed it is.

~

Harry wakes up to a blinding pain that explodes behind his scarred eye socket. The migraine is worse than the last few put together, and he supposes he must have slept through the build-up because now it's absolutely  _excruciating_. It's like his brain is being traced with a white hot poker.

He tries to struggle and sit up, but his head explodes again, so he abandons that thought and sits back with a pitiful little noise.

This...this isn't normal. He's supposed to be having _headaches_ , not pains that feel like knives being thrust through his skull. Something's wrong.

His skull pounds and every noise is a pin stuck in his brain and twists. Every noise on the street, every noise of pain he makes, every minor creak in the house. It's like a thick needle is being driven into his head.

After a few minutes of trying to just fucking _breathe_ , his eye catches a bright ray of sunlight shining through the curtains and the fire in his skull is ignited even hotter. More blinding. More _painful_. It's unbearable _and he can't see--_

He can't help the sharp cry of pain this time. His vision momentarily blacks out.

Harry passes out twice in a span of three minutes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *adele voice* hello...it's me.


	33. Chapter 33

Blacking out isn't new to Harry. 

Feeling like the flames of hell are behind his eyes? Yes.

Very new. Horribly, horribly new.

Time goes by in odd snapshots of consciousness, kind of like a camera that is repeatedly taking pictures. There are gaps in time and memory, but he can't see them.

He just knows he's alone. Until he isn't.

All he can manage is a glimpse of light brown hair, and something stinging his neck.

The pain recedes, and it's such a relief.

Then the blissful darkness settles over him.

~

It's gotten to the point where Harry knows the feeling of the infirmary without even opening his eyes.

How bloody _sad_.

His head still hurts, through it's more of a dull throbbing than the sharp, white hot pain that it was. 

Harry is honestly very, _very_ sick of being in pain. He's sick of waking up in hospitals. He's sick of pills.

"'Arry?"

Eggsy.

The boy is next to him, holding his hand, he notices after far too long. Harry is so _tired_.

"'Arry?", the younger man says softly, and Harry can feel him brushing his hair off his forehead, "Can ya hear me?"

The sound of a voice so close makes his head ache just a bit more, but Harry opens his eye and is faced with the sight of Eggsy--suit ripped in places and cheek bruised--looking at him with wide eyes.

"God, 'arry.", Eggsy sighs in relief standing up and leaning over him, not letting go of his hand, "I tried callin' 'n you wasn't answerin' and then I raced home and you was in 'n out of consciousness...", the younger man presses a slow, trembling kiss to his cheek, "Fuck, I was so fuckin' scared. Are you okay, love?"

Harry takes a breath and looks up into Eggsy's worried and relieved face.

He really wishes he could stop frightening him.

"Yes.", he says quietly, trying not to irritate his aching head, "Migraine."

The younger man presses the assist button and squeezes his hand.

"It's alright now.", he soothes, "It's alright."

~

A delayed reaction to being shot through the eye, apparently. 

Harry isn't surprised in the least. He's given pain medication and told to alert anyone if the pain worsens. 

Then he's left alone and dozing again, the rest of the medication causing lethargy to lull him back into a light sleep.

He doesn't know that Eggsy is outside talking to the doctor.

~

"I wanted to speak to you first.", the man says, looking at Eggsy with thinly veiled worry, "I am growing concerned."

"What's wrong?", Eggsy croaks, stomach bottoming out.

The man looks at Eggsy for a moment, choosing his words, "Birth is going to be difficult for him. Physically he's still not quite recovered, and mentally the process is going to be taxing."

"I don't--," Eggsy bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair, anxious, "what are you sayin'?"

"I'm saying," the doctor sighs, "that, due to everything he is dealing with and _has_ been dealing with since being shot, this pregnancy is ill timed and quite frankly, dangerous. I...I wasn't sure how it would play out in the beginning, but things seem to be getting more complicated for him. The migraines, the depression...giving birth is going to be extremely dangerous and may put his health at risk."

Eggsy rubs a hand down his face and tries not to fucking scream.

"Disregarding the worst case scenario," the doctor tells him, "we just need to take certain precautions. As soon as he starts going into labor he needs to be here so we can monitor him and make sure both he and the baby are safe. We don't want to take any chances, considering how precarious the situation is."

Eggsy clenches his jaw and tries to keep his breathing steady, "Do you think he'll--"

"We will do all we can to make sure that doesn't happen.", the man says firmly.

~

Eggsy takes him home and refuses to be more than a few inches away from him at any given time, and Harry finds he really doesn't mind at all. 

Harry starts a bath. Eggsy joins him, kisses his neck and seems to just be trying to get it through to himself that Harry is okay (more or less) and is still tangible and able to be soothed by his touch.

They lay in bed, Harry sighs into Eggsy's embrace and tries to sleep.

~

The baby's kicking wakes him up about 3 hours later, and Harry is so exhausted that he doesn't notice that Eggsy has woken up until he feels the younger man rubbing his stomach and kissing his cheek sleepily.

"'M sorry this has been so hard for you.", Eggsy murmurs, "'m sorry, 'arry. 'M so fuckin' sorry."

And Eggsy means it. He's the reason Harry is in such an uncomfortable position, and why he's in pain and at risk. If he loses Harry it's his own fault.

The thought has been wrapping tightly around his neck and choking him since the conversation with the doctor a few hours ago.

He knows he has to tell Harry about what the physician said, but he's torn. He doesn't want to make the man anxious or worried because that won't help Harry or the situation. But he knows that Harry has to know. 

Harry looks at him in the dark and feels Eggsy's hands on his skin, trying to soothe their baby, and he can't accept Eggsy's remorse or apology because there's nothing for him to apologize for.

"I'd have it no other way.", Harry says, covering one of Eggsy's hands with his own, "Don't apologize. I want this."

The younger man sits up and looks down at Harry with an expression that makes it seem like Harry has given him the entire country on a platter. Harry also can't help but notice that he also looks a bit sad.

"I fuckin' love you.", Eggsy breathes, kissing him.

~

Harry feels huge.

He knows he isn't abnormally large at this stage, but he feels bloated and like a lumbering idiot.

"I cannot see anything past my stomach.", he grumbles, and Eggsy looks up from his phone.

"Everythin' basically looks the same, love.", Eggsy says, giving him a cheeky smile.

Harry looks at him, unamused, "I can barely _walk_."

"It ain't like I can't get things for you."

"Not the point.", Harry grumbles, "At all."

Eggsy kisses him, "Well I think you look beautiful."

~

"Mum's plannin' a baby shower.", Eggsy tells him, "I can't stop 'er. She's insistin'."

Harry gives him a withering look, "I suppose it cannot be too--"

"She has Roxy helpin' 'er."

"Good god."

Eggsy grimaces, "Wanna skip town?"

Harry sighs, "They'd find us."

~

"Okay,", Eggsy says, sitting down next to Harry and showing him a listing on a data pad, "This one ain't too big, has a balcony 'n a backyard."

Harry looks on as Eggsy shows him the pictures, pulling Harry into his arms.

It's a lot like the house they're in now, only slightly bigger.

"I was thinkin' this room could be the nursery, yeah? It's got a big window 'n everythin'.", he flips to another picture of a blank room, "This could be our room, and this could be the office."

Harry smiles softly at the house and Eggsy's ideas before he presses closer to him and says, "It's rather perfect, isn't it?"

Eggsy beams.

~

In person it's even better.

It's not overly huge, but it manages to be spacious, and really, it _is_ perfect. He's not surprised, because if anyone could manage to find something perfect it's Eggsy.

He's ridiculously amazing that way.

The realtor greets them and congratulates them on the new addition to their family, gives them a tour, and looks both pleased and slightly surprised when she's told they'll take it.

Harry is exhausted and sore by the time they get back, and Eggsy makes sure he's comfortable in bed with a pillow under his back before he sees him off to sleep, Harry holding his hand and drifting off.

~

Harry isn't sure if baby showers are necessarily supposed to be a surprise. 

But it is.

Eggsy opens the door and takes Harry by the hand, helping him into the house...and then he's immediate faced with pretty much everyone he knows standing in the decorated living room, smiling at him.

Complete with a large 'It's A Boy!' banner.

Eggsy looks just as surprised as he does, and Merlin smirks at the sight they both make, standing at the door staring at the party before them.

Roxy and Michelle pull them inside while Daisy takes a hold of Harry's hand and beams. Grace barrels in from the kitchen and her father picks her up as she giggles, April giving Harry a wink as Roxy takes him out of his coat and settles him into an armchair. 

"Baby shower!", Daisy says happily, throwing her hands up in excitement, "Presents for the baby!"

And sure enough, the entire room is littered with gifts wrapped in paper printed with baby bottles, teddy bears and the like.

"Did you sneak into our house and 'nd set up a party?", Eggsy asks, a hint of a laugh in his voice, "Jesus, Rox. Mum, I thought _you_ knew bet'er."

"Hush, Eggsy," Michelle says, "this is lovely and you both are going to love it."

Eggsy doesn't doubt it, but he looks around at Roxy and Merlin smiling softly at one another, red faced and shy, April and Steven laughing with Michelle and Harry looking incredibly amused at the two little girls that are talking to him at mile a minute.

Harry is surrounded by Daisy and Grace, laughing as the two girls try to suggest their own names for the baby. Harry tries to tell them that he's a baby boy, but they don't seem to want to take that as an answer. They don't quite understand why a little boy can't be named Daisy Grace Hart-Unwin, but Harry honestly finds it extremely adorable.

~

"Okay, ", Roxy says, handing Harry a large box, "open this one first, it's from me."

They've gathered around to watch Harry and Eggsy open the gifts, and the sight of a bunch of super spies sitting on their couch and on the floor of their living room is a humorous one.

All of them (also including Eggsy's mum, probably) are extremely dangerous people, and yet, Steven is sitting on the floor with Grace in his lap as his daughter puts heart stickers on his face. 

Roxy is nearly bouncing with excitement as Harry opens her gift, Merlin has had more than his fair share of wine, so has Michelle, and April is holding a giggling Daisy.

Roxy's gift is covered in shimmery bright blue paper, and Harry picks it apart and unwraps it to reveal a box containing a teddy bear that doubles as a baby moniter.

"Rox," Eggsy grins, "this is _aces_ , thanks."

"This is adorable and extremely useful," Harry tells her, "Thank you."

"I knew you'd like it.", she says, looking proud of herself.

Merlin hands Eggsy a large yellow box that turns out to be all diapers.

"I will admit.", he says, "I know...next to nothing about children, but I gather that they need these...right?"

Harry can't help but laugh at his slightly drunk friend, "You're certainly not wrong. Thank you, Merlin." 

Michelle gives them a baby carrier and car seat.

"It has a bottle pocket on each side.", she beams.

"This is perfect, mum."

April and Steven give them clothes and bottles, along with a pair of the tiniest oxfords Eggsy has ever seen.

"I had to pick the clothes,", April says, "because Steven would have just bought a bunch of onesies with stupid little sayings on them."

"I'll have you know that those are adorable.", the man argues.

"These are absolutely perfect, thank you both.", Harry laughs as the couple bickers.

The rest of the gifts are small, practical things like pacifiers, burping cloths and teething rings.

Jamal and Ryan arrive later, bearing a crib.

"We wan'ed to make sure it was a good one.", Jamal grins, hand in hand with Ryan, "Can't 'ave 'em in anythin' but the best, yeah?"

"It's got cameras!", Ryan beams, and Harry can't help but huff a laugh at their excitement and how proud of themselves they are, and Eggsy pulls them both into a hug.

"Good to finally meet ya,", Jamal grins, shaking Harry's hand, "whenever Eggsy comes 'round you're all 'e talks about."

"Is that so?", he smiles in a red-faced Eggsy's direction.

"Yeah,", Ryan adds, "got 'im whipped, you do."

"Oi!", Eggsy snaps, face going redder.

Harry laughs until Eggsy kisses him quiet.

~

The baby shower is...a lot of fun, actually. Not like Harry doubted it. He just didn't know what you expect, but it lasts for hours and everyone is talking and eating and laughing and Harry is actually enjoying himself.

Eggsy stays close by him, and the sound of everyone mingling meshes with the sounds of Grace and Daisy playing rather loudly.

Harry listens to Jamal and Ryan tell him stories about Eggsy that make the boy go red in the face, and Harry spends most of the night with a smile on his lips.

~

Eggsy tells him, eventually.

Harry isn't concerned about the fact that Eggsy didn't tell him immediately because he's _more_ concerned about the fact that he keeps worrying the boy. He doesn't mean to be so fucking troublesome, but for some reason he can't seem to keep trouble too far from him. 

The migraines haven't gone away completely, and the pain medication helps, but between that and the fact that he has to go to the bathroom every ten minutes, is hungry all the time, and has a sore back, he can't really act like everything is okay for longer than a few minutes at a time.

Even so, he refuses to accept anything less than him delivering a healthy baby. He's going to do it, matter how hard it is because really, Harry has been through worse and has succeeded in worse conditions (like when he was surrounded by hostile forces in Chechnya).

He's going to have a healthy baby and he's going to be fine. Their baby boy is going to be fine. 

He refuses to put Eggsy through anymore stress or worry.

He tells Eggsy this one night, and the younger man kisses him and breathes a reverant, "I know you can do it."

~

The eighth month ends up containing more moving and less disaster.

Thank god.

Harry is tired, but only because he's trying to sneak and help with the move while Eggsy isn't looking. With the help of moving services they are moved out in a week, but there's still a lot to do in terms of painting the nursery and setting it up. 

On the day they leave, Harry takes one more walk through his old home and finds that he doesn't really feel any sadness at leaving the place.

It's hard to feel too nostalgic when one is on to something better. 

"Ready to go?", the younger man asks, wrapping an arm around his waist, "Truck's already at the house."

He takes one last look at the empty space and takes Eggsy's hand.

"Yes, I believe I am.", he smiles, "let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!


	34. Chapter 34

"That color is a bit dark, don't you think?"

"Nah, 'arry look at it. It's soothin', yeah? Yellow is only gonna make 'im wanna stay awake. This'll put 'im to sleep."

"But it isn't very nice to look at, Eggsy. Oh, here. What about this one?"

"Nah, too purple. What about this red, yeah?"

"Red is far too strong a color to be on an infant's wall, I think. Periwinkle?"

"Nah, too common, but look at this forest green."

"That's far too dark."

"Orange?"

"Neither of us liked orange, remember?"

"Oh yeah, what 'bout this cotton candy pink?"

"...I rather like that one, actually."

"So do I. Then pink it is."

~

Harry isn't allowed to help with the moving and rearranging of the furniture in the house. He doesn't intend to _actually_ adhere to Eggsy's strict 'no work for Harry' policy, but whenever he seems to even _think_ about unpacking a box before the moving men can get to it Eggsy is by his side.

"'Arry. Listen," the young man says, taking the vase from him, "Ya got a little less than a month left, yeah? Can ya slow down just for a month? It ain't gonna be long."

Harry narrows his eye, "That's rather easy for you to say. You aren't the one actually carrying the child. It feels like _ages_." 

"I know, love. But..." Eggsy gives him an apologetic smile, "You really ain't supposed to be movin', and the workers and I got it, so sit down, yeah? _Please_ 'Arry? For me?" 

The look on Eggsy's face makes Harry sigh and accept being useless for the moment. 

~ 

"Oh, it's beautiful.", Michelle breathes as she walks through the new house for the first time. It's not actually reached the point of being beautiful yet, seeing as some boxes still haven't been unpacked, but Harry knows what she means.

"And it's just big enough for you and the baby.", she adds, smiling softly at Eggsy and Harry, "It's lovely." 

"Thanks mum.", Eggsy grins, "Took a while to find, but it's kinda perfect." 

"My baby boy is all grown up.", Michelle gushes, slightly teary-eyed and pulling a protesting Eggsy into her arms, "All grown up with a house and baby boy on the way. I'm so proud of you, babe." 

Eggsy hugs his mother and fondly rolls his eyes at Harry over her shoulder as the man gives Eggsy an infuriatingly amused look. 

 ~

"May I at least place the toys on the shelves?", Harry grumbles.

The nursery is coming together.

Actually, it's basically finished.

Light pink walls (after a lot of bickering between Eggsy and himself), the light blue crib Jamal and Ryan gifted to them, all the toys and supplies they've received from the baby shower sit scattered on the newly carpeted ground as Eggsy moves around the room placing things where they belong. 

In the end all they'd needed to buy was a dresser, a cabinet and some shelves (after, of course, after a healthy amount of bickering between them about that too.).

Harry sits in the plush, light blue armchair they've placed in the nursery and looks on Eggsy moves around the room like an excited whirlwind.

He's bored out of his fucking mind. Harry can do many things, but sitting still is one thing he can't quite get a grasp of. Why else would he become a spy, a job in which one hardly ever stops moving? 

Because he fucking _hates_ stagnation. He's bored so easily that Harry can honestly feel his brain melting.

Goodness, he can't wait until this is over. He's more than a bit sick of being huge and tired and achy. He's also very unimpressed with fact that their boy apparently really enjoys pounding on his major organs.

Harry wants to get back to work. He would even be okay with sitting a desk and signing papers as long as he was doing something.

Yes, he's gotten that desperate. 

"Nah," Eggsy tells him, "I got it." 

Harry knows he's probably the least tactful living member of Kingsman, so he doesn't try to bite his tongue to stop his grumble of "For fuck's sake." 

Eggsy grins at him.

Little shit.

He loves him. But for the moment he kind of wants to kill him.

He's so fucking bored.

Harry winces as he feels another kick, and takes a steadying breath. Just one month.

Surely he can keep his head for that long. He isn't specially trained in emotional control for no reason. But somehow he finds a mission a lot easier than this. He knows that world backwards and forwards. But this? Nurseries, teddy bears and baby bottles?

New. Terrifying.

And it's like now it's really started to register on a slightly deeper level because _shit_ \--the baby is going to be here soon, and they'll have to adjust to that. Harry just hopes that he can keep up this stable emotional state and actually do this right.

The point is, he's really quite ready to _not_ be pregnant anymore, and a lot _more_ ready to have a crying baby in his arms instead.

"'Arry.", Eggsy says, pulling him out of his thoughts and kneeling in front of him, his chin on Harry's knee, "I know you're bored as shit, but ya really gotta be careful. I refuse to let you get hurt. Even if it makes you mad at me." 

"I'm not upset with you.", Harry sighs, running hand through Eggsy's hair, "I'm just quite sick of being about the size of a planet, is all." 

Eggsy gives him a soft smile, "I think you look great." 

"So you've said." 

 "Well, I mean it."

Harry huffs a laugh and feels a little brighter. 

~ 

If Harry thought he was ass deep in pain (and the feeling of being intensely annoyed all the time) _before_ , he is on the verge of asking for an induced labor once the faux contractions start up.

Because, well, he wasn't in enough pain before, it seems. 

"How the fuck do people so this more than once?", he gasps, breath hitching as Eggsy takes his hand and tries to soothe him. The younger man looks like he's about to pass out. 

Well, that makes two of them, apparently.

Though Eggsy looked a lot worse the first time it happened while he hastily phoned the doctor and had to be told that it was normal several times before he even _began_ to calm down.

Harry really isn't sure what hurts more. Being shot, or this.

He'll have to write up some macabre analysis comparing the two when he can.

It passes, and Harry gives Eggsy an apologetic look and lets go of his iron grip on his hand before taking a deep breath. Harry is honestly trying quite hard to hold onto his composure and dignity throughout all of this, biting down mood swings and cravings. 

However, he doesn't know how much longer he can last.

Harry can't even sleep. Every position is uncomfortable for different reasons, so he finds himself up and in the living room at 2 am, talking to their restless baby and trying to soothe him back to sleep. And when Harry awakens and leaves bed, Eggsy follows not long afterwards. 

Their small family ends up on the couch, Harry softly talking to their baby and Eggsy occasionally singing to him, an arm around Harry and a sleepy smile always on his face without fail.

Sleep is in short supply, and it'll be in even shorter supply once their baby boy actually arrives.

They're still deciding on his name, and while they have a few great options, nothing has really struck them with that lightning bolt of 'perfect'. They both refuse to settle for something that's merely okay instead of a name that is fitting and meaningful.

It's gotten to the point where Eggsy has to help Harry up most of the time, because he's so big and thrown off balance (Eggsy does so with a fond teasing smile that makes Harry pretend to be annoyed until he breaks and laughs). He has to use the bathroom every half hour.

The sex is amazing, though.

Harry's still eating everything. He's given up trying to pick and choose what he eats based on nutritional value because what the fuck does it matter, really? They're all going to die anyway. Might as well have the entire tub of ice cream. Or apologetically wake Eggsy up for some curry at 1am.

"Ya want curry?", Eggsy yawns, "It's the middle of the night."

"It's morning, technically.", Harry says, looking at the lump next to him, messy hair on his pillow as he blinks up at Harry in the dim light.

"Alright, alright.", Eggsy says, yawning before he sits up rubs at his eyes and presses a kiss to Harry's cheek before slipping into a coat and his trainers, heading out the door.

~

"'Arry?" 

"Hm?"

Eggsy tightens his hold on him before looking at him thoughtfully, "How 'bout Henry? Like, from My Fair Lady." 

And there it is. They both know. 

"It's rather perfect, isn't it?", Harry asks him.

~

"That's the baby?", Daisy asks, looking up at Harry and Eggsy with huge eyes as she feels Henry kick.

"Yeah, Dais.", Eggsy says, kneeling next to his sister, "That's 'im." 

"He's gonna be so cute!", she squeaks, clapping her hands in excitement. Eggsy takes Harry's hand.

"Yeah. yeah, 'e is.", he says softly.

~  
A few nights later Eggsy finds Harry in the bathroom at 3am, hands holding the rim of the sink so tightly that his knuckles are white and his shoulders are tense.

"Shit, you okay?", he rambles, worried, "Do ya need me to--" 

"I'm alright.", Harry tells him, voice tight, "Just some pain." 

"Maybe we should call the doc--" 

"It isn't anything I haven't felt before. Just--", Harry takes a breath as the last of the pain passes, "my due date is soon, so I suppose that this is normal." 

Eggsy doesn't look any less worried, but he blinks ins surprise because fuck--it _is_ soon isn't it? It's November 31st, starting tomorrow the baby could be arriving any day now. 

Harry lets  go of the sink with a sigh and pulls Eggsy back to bed. 

~

"Oh, hello Michelle, Daisy."

"Hey Harry, dear. How are you? Oh, you're huge!", she gushes, hands immediately finding their way to his stomach. He can only shake his head fondly at the woman and move aside to let her inside. 

Well, she isn't _wrong_. He is.

"Harry!", Daisy giggles blinking at him and smiling brightly.

"Hello, miss Daisy."

"I am here," she starts, adjusting Daisy on her hip, "to help you and Eggsy pack your hospital bag." 

Harry blames the fact that he hasn't had anything mentally challenging to do in ages for it taking him so long to understand what she means.

Ah.

Overnight bag. Something that's already packed and ready to go with all the essentials when they have to get to the medbay. A bag of tiny clothes, socks and the hats Michelle gifted to her unborn grandson.

Fuck.

And yeah, he _knew_ it was close, and that the child would realistically be there soon. But for some reason that really drives it home.

"Harry, you alright?"

He's snapped out of his thoughts by a worried looking Michelle with a hand on his arm. Apparently he doesn't answer quickly enough to calm her nerves because she takes him by the arm and leads him to the couch, sitting him down and fussing over him.

"I'm alright. Apologies, for that.", he says, trying to calm her down, "My mind just seems to have wandered off."

"Are you sure?", she asks. And Harry is about to answer when he learns that his answer really doesn't matter because Eggsy has made an appearance and has joined his mother in fretting over him. 

"'Arry, you alright?", Eggsy asks, eyes wide and palm cupping his cheek before Harry can even tell them he's _perfectly fine for god's sake--_

"I'll go put on some tea.", Michelle says quickly, like that's a cure for whatever she thinks the problem is. 

"That's not necessary, really.", Harry says, a bit frantic as Eggsy's eyes rake over his body for any sign of injury and Michelle quickly makes her way to the kitchen, "I'm fine. There is nothing wrong at all. Do please calm down." 

Eggsy looks at him for a long time, and _Jesus_ \--Harry isn't even sure the younger man is _breathing,_ but thankfully it looks like Eggsy believes him.

Though he does understand the concern. Harry isn't very vocal about potentially serious health issues. The migraine situation, for instance. But he is truly fine (well, as fine as he can be while carrying another person in his body), and leans over to help Daisy onto the couch beside Eggsy and himself.

"You do need to stop worrying so much.", Harry says, glancing at Eggsy, "Every sound of discomfort or lapse in memory or attention isn't a sign of death, Eggsy."

Eggsy rolls his eyes and tries to fight of a smile, rubbing a hand down his face in relief.

"Well we've had some close calls.", he says, "I ain't wrong in bein' a bit crazy." 

"No, of course not.", Harry smiles at him, "Though I would feel better if you weren't nearly jumping out of your skin all the time." 

Eggsy snorts and kisses him before standing and saying, "I'm gonna help mum in the kitchen. You want anythin'?" 

"No.", Harry answers distracted by Daisy talking a mile-a-minute as soon as Eggsy gets up, "I'm fine." 

He grins at the sight of Harry looking at Daisy in rapt interest like what his sister is telling him is a matter of national security-level importance, and he trails into the kitchen after his mum.

She stands by the stove, taking cups out of the cupboards and whirring around the kitchen like a worried whirlwind.

"Oh, hey babe.", she says, catching sight of Eggsy leaning by the door.

"Need any help?", he asks, smiling softly at his obviously worried mother, trying to distract herself with tea.

"Yeah, can you get the sugar?", she asks, "Thanks love."

He finds it and hands it to her, and as soon as he's close enough in a quiet voice she asks, "Is Harry alright?"

Eggsy looks at her and wonders if he should say anything. If nothing ends up happening then he's worried her for no reason, but the phone call with the doctor two days ago makes him feel like maybe he should tell her. 

"Okay," Michelle says, looking at her son as sternly as she can manage through her fretting, "What is it? You gone all quiet. What's happened."

It's not a question, but a demand, but Eggsy hesitates all the same before he says, "Got a call from the doctor like, two days ago."

"And?"

"Just--fuck--'e wanted to make sure that as soon as he went into labor that we got him to the hospital, yeah? And that's fine, but then--", he bites the inside of his cheek until he's sure he won't pop a blood vessel, "He just kept sayin' that it's gonna be shit for Harry mentally and emotionally. Like, it's gonna fuck with him. 'nd that it was very important to get him there as soon as it's started 'cause he's gonna need medical attention immediately. It could be really fuckin' dangerous."

"Shit.", Michelle breathes, biting her lip and letting out a breath. She looks at her son and...sees how he's _grown up_. And not just grown up, grown up _well_. He's caring, loving and responsible and she so bloody proud of him she could hug him so tight she squeezes the breath out of him.

Her little boy who's grown up so fast. Into a man. A good man. And found a man just as good as himself.

Her little boy who's worried and trying to bite it down so he doesn't cause a scene and more stress.

Michelle looks at Eggsy before enveloping him in a hug.

"How about Daisy and I move into the guest room. Just for a bit when you think it's getting to be time?", she asks, hugging him tight, "So that I can help and just...ease some of the stress off you?"

Eggsy huffs a laugh into his mum's shoulder because she always knows what to do even when she doesn't. His mum is a godsend, she is.

"That would be amazin'."

~

"Okay, so.", Michelle starts looking around the baby clothes, bottles and blankets she's brought downstairs into the living room where Eggsy, Harry and Daisy sit and look on.

"We don't have to take too much.", she says, "That's one mistake new parents always make. They bring everything to hospital thinking they'll need it all."

Harry resolves that as soon as he arrives home and isn't pregnant anymore, he's going to have a fucking drink. Or two. Or twelve.

Making up for lost time, and all that. 

He's really looking forward to being able to make bad decisions again. Really.

(Well, not _that_ bad. They have a baby now, and Harry will be damned if he gets himself killed or hurt, resulting in him not being able to be there for their Henry.)

He supposes he's just ready for their baby to be here. And not just because he wants his body back, but because he wants to meet him. Hold him. Kiss his little Henry's cheeks. Be woken up at 2am to his crying. He wants to be able to rock him to sleep and hear him gurgle in laughter. To see him get food all over his face.

It's really about time. 

"So," Michelle continues, "Diapers are a must. Two blankets--"

"Only two?", Eggsy asks with a pinch of worry in his voice, "What if he needs--" 

"No, love.", Michelle smirks at him, " _Only_ two. See? new parents ends up bringing far too much stuff." 

Harry shoots a smug look in Eggsy's direction and the younger man glares at him playfully before he reaches up to quickly run his fingers through Harry's hair, messing it up.

Harry lightly slaps his hand away, "Mature."

"I know.", Eggsy says with a sly smile, eyebrows raised.

"You two are perfect for each other, really.", Michelle says, lightly scolding them, "You're both children disguised as adults."

"Oi!"

Harry tries not to laugh.

"Okay, so before I was interrupted," she says, looking pointedly at the pair, "We'll bring one hat--"

"Mum! _One_?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I was on a Portal binge.


	35. Chapter 35

It starts snowing the day Michelle and Daisy move into their guest room.

Harry rather likes this arrangement, for some reason he feels better with them close. It's irrational, seeing as they don't live too far away and he sees them almost every other day, but he's just going to blame this on pregnancy hormones and ignore it.

What he didn't expect was Michelle--in addition to bags--carrying in boxes full of Christmas decorations. 

Christmas. He'd nearly forgotten, what with the weekly disasters and near death experiences and such.

Eggsy shadows him as he walks ( _waddles_ , actually, but if anyone pointed that out he would murder them and hide them under the floorboards) around and examines the contents of each box.

The decorations are beautiful, but he hopes Michelle and Eggsy (and Daisy) know what to do with them because Harry can't remember the last time he'd bothered with Christmas at all. In the back of his mind the holiday was for normal people who had normal jobs and families that weren't awful. And so there was Harry, with his...unique job and his awful family...who ignored it.

Well, he didn't _ignore_ it, he just didn't partake. Why? He lived alone and hardly had guests over, and if he was unlucky enough to not have a mission on Christmas he just spent the day like any other. Hopelessly bored and yearning for a gun in his hand. Or a grenade. _Something_.

So he looks at the decorations and tries not to look too outwardly confused.

Of course. Harry knows how to diffuse bombs, take out a room of armed men 3 times his size and charm a room full of people while simultaneously slipping poison in a target's drink (among other things) but Christmas decorations have him at loss.

Harry has trouble believing he's a real person sometimes. He's fucking ridiculous. Because _seriously_. Who can kill someone 105 different ways but not know what _tinsel_ is for? 

For fuck's sake--

"Wanna get a tree today?", Eggsy asks, appearing next to him while Michelle and Daisy set up in their room, "Mum brought the decorations so I guess we ain't gotta buy any." 

"I'm not opposed to it.", Harry says, "Sounds lovely." 

Eggsy grins at him, "So before I popped in 'n made your life about a million times better, what did ya even do for Christmas?" 

Harry picks up an ornament. It has Santa Clause on it.

He's still a part of the Christmas tradition he guesses. He doesn't understand why. Teaching children that a man breaks into their home on Christmas Eve really does not sound like something a parent should instill in a child, certainly and especially not in a _positive_ way. And because he leaves gifts it's okay?

What an absurd notion, really. 

"I was in Serbia last Christmas.", he answers, looking at the ornament blandly.

Eggsy bristles beside him, "'n the year before that?" 

"Had a run in with a few very _excitable_ members of the Italian mob in Manhattan."

"...'n before that?" 

"Breaking up a human trafficking ring in--"

"When's the last time ya actually _celebrated_ Christmas?", Eggsy asks, giving him a concerned look.

Harry sighs inwardly. He really hopes the younger man doesn't overreact and try to make it some dramatically tragic 'oh-Harry-you-poor-dear' situation.

It bothered him when he was a lot younger, but he's grown used to it. He's horribly and awkwardly (and quite happily) distant from his family, so honestly he was better off keeping busy instead of being melancholy. After a few years it merely became a routine.

It's fine, really.

"Not quite sure, really.", Harry says truthfully.

"You're _shitting_ me."

"No. I'm not."

"That's--"

"Oh, please don't,", Harry starts giving Eggsy a withering look, "it's really nothing to be upset about. It's fine."

"No it ain't.", the younger man says, looking at Harry with a worried expression.

"Yes. It is."

Eggsy huffs but doesn't push the subject. Thank god. He's had quite enough melodrama. He really doesn't understand the problem.

~

"Harry," Eggsy calls, standing next to a large pine tree, "what 'bout this one?"

It doesn't look too different from the others. They've been wandering through aisles and aisles of trees with snow softly falling on them, and Harry is quite tired of thanking random people who see his stomach and feel the need to offer their congratulations. Eggsy seems rather proud everytime it happens ("Thanks, bruv", Eggsy says to one man, tightening an arm around Harry's waist proudly in an obvious display of 'Yep I'm the one who put that baby inside him.') but really, Harry doesn't know how much longer he can resist dumping snow down Eggsy's back to get him to stop peacocking around and _actually pick a tree_.

"It's a bit large, isn't it?", he asks, his scarf muffling his words a bit, "Will it even fit?"

"Yep. It will.", Eggsy says beaming at red-cheeked Harry bundled up in his black winter coat, rounded stomach clearly visible, "Do ya like it?"  

"It is quite a handsome tree. But I can't quite distinguish it from the others, I must admit."

Eggsy laughs, breath coming out in visible puffs of air, "You know every different kinda gun, but Christmas trees are lost on ya."

Harry finally gives in and dumps snow down the back of Eggsy's jacket while he isn't looking. The younger man's yelp makes looking at identical trees for an hour worth it. Even if he got pelted with snow afterwards in retaliation.

~ 

"Oh! How wonderful!" the cashier says cheerily as she catches sight of Harry while they pay for the tree to be delivered to the house, "Congratulations!"

Eggsy beams, eyes glittering, "Thanks!" 

He tightens his hold on Harry's waist and gives him a bright smile. The only man can only huff fondly and try to hide a smile.

Little shit.

~

Michelle and Daisy are at the house, so they'll be there when the tree is delivered, which is why instead of going straight home Eggsy takes his hand and asks if he's okay to walk around for a bit. 

"Yes, I'm fine.", he answers, watching the snow fall. 

Snow is quite beautiful when one isn't stranded somewhere, hunting down a target while also dealing with the thick blanket of white that stretches for miles in some godforsaken part of the world.

It's been a while since Harry has had to get any Christmas shopping done, but they stop at several stores and he finds gifts for Michelle and Daisy.

"Aw, congrats." the salesmen says, and Eggsy saves Harry the effort of having to respond when he gives the man a bright, "Thanks, bruv. Merry Christmas."

They stop at another and Eggsy picks up a gift for his mother, one for his sister then one for Roxy. Harry finds something for Merlin, and Eggsy finds something for Grace. Harry spots a gift for April. Eggsy finds one for Steven. Harry finds one for Roxy.

All in all, it's a very productive outing, and after Eggsy calls their car so he can put the bags in it, he and Harry end up on the Eye again.

London looks different covered in snow. No less charming, though.

"I'm really proud of us.", Eggsy tells him, "I'm proud of the life we're buildin', ya know?"

Harry has to smile, "As am I." he says, taking Eggsy's hand.

~

Somehow they end up the middle of one those walk-through holiday displays that seems to crop up in cities during the holidays. One part seems to multiple clusters of small shops of independent artists selling their handmade creations, and one part 'burn-out-your-eyes' LED lightshow hell.

It's charming in an over the top way, though.

Harry and Eggsy walk through the small markets, stopping at some stalls and passing others. More people, more cordial congratulations from vendors and shoppers.

Harry doesn't notice that he's wandered away from Eggsy (who is steadfastly exploring a booth that sells customizable hooded sweatshirts not too far off) until he feels a presence much too close to him.

"Hey...You alone here?"

The voice is clearly trying hard to be flirty and sexy and if Harry didn't have more self control he would throw his head back and groan in pure, unfiltered _irritation_. Because _really_.

He's obviously pregnant and looking for Christmas gifts.

One would think someone would be able to deduce the answer from that alone.

"No."

His answer is short and clipped because Harry would rather be examining these handcrafted vases than talking to whoever who has decided to crop up and disturb him.

"Oh yeah?", the stranger laughs, and Harry doesn't even care enough to turn and look at him, "Where is he? Is he bigger than me? Who leaves someone who looks like _you_ alone _anywhere_?"

Harry sighs in annoyance and looks up at the sky, trying to refrain from snapping this pushy man's neck. Merlin would have a fit if he had to cover up a public execution for him.

"You're _gorgeous_. So, what are the chances that we can engage in anything more than just conversation?"

Harry has to remind himself that being wanted for brutal murder is not something he can realistically fit into his schedule right now.

"So you're with a guy huh? Mine's bigger and better than his, I bet. Want proof?"

This time Harry can't help it. He sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes, "Oh for _fuck's_ sake--" 

"Who're you?" Eggsy snips, cutting Harry off and popping up out of nowhere.

"A very, very _interested_ party.", the man says, tone suggestive in ways that Harry doesn't even want to think about. Eggsy fumes and Harry winces.

He's done it now. Eggsy is quite the hothead when he wants to be.

"Interested in what, mate?", Eggsy says icily, "You _better_ be talkin' bout them fuckin' vases." 

"I don't think I am.", he says, smirking and gazing at an exasperated Harry. Maybe he should just punch him in the throat, drag Eggsy away and be done with it. It is far too cold for this nonsense.

"Walk. Away.", the younger man hisses, jaw clenching and expression dark, eyes hard.

"I really, really," he blinks, looking at Harry even more suggestively, eyes raking down his body, " _really_ don't want to." 

Harry is considering sticking a hand grenade in this man's pocket and clearing the area (and the thought is strictly for his own amusement. He wouldn't actually do such a thing, he isn't that much of a wild card), before Eggsy rears back and punches the man in the nose.

It's impressively quick, and the stranger passes out upon impact, crumpling to the snow covered ground.

Their little section of the market freezes.

Shoppers stop and stare.  

 _They_ would call this a violent and disruptive public incident. _Jarring_ , even.

Harry just calls it Tuesday.

The older man sighs nonchalantly and grabs Eggsy's arm, pulling the fuming agent away from his target. 

~ 

"I may 'ave punched 'im.", Eggsy grumbles, "He deserved it though."

Michelle tries to bite back a laugh. Her boy is ridiculous.

"Tree! Tree! Tree!", Daisy sings, bouncing around the large pine they've settled in the living room. 

Michelle shakes her head, "Let's just decorate the tree, alright?" 

~

Daisy tries to wrap her mother in Christmas lights (Michelle obliges her, if for no other reason than to see her laugh), Harry passes Eggsy ornaments and watches the tree become the festive attraction it's supposed to be.

"Oh," Michelle breathes once it's lit, "It's _perfect_. Good job everyone."

Daisy beams.

~ 

"I _am_ sorry for freakin' out like that.", Eggsy says later when they're laying in bed, Eggsy tracing his fingers over Harry's stomach, "I ain't tryna be controllin' or nufin'--"  

"What led you to assume I thought such a thing?", Harry asks, looking at Eggsy in alarm, "You didn't even hear everything he said to me. That man was extremely crude, intrusive, entitled and annoying. You punched him before I could make up my mind as to whether I should snap his neck or not." 

"I dunno, just didn't want ya to think I was explosive or sumfin'."

Harry blinks, "You _do_ know you're talking to the man who barely got two sentences out before he snapped on Professor Arnold?"  

Eggsy snorts, "Forgot 'bout that." 

"There is nothing to worry about, Eggsy.", he says absently returning to his book, "You're just acting on your instincts. Biology, is all." 

Instincts. To protect. Shit, how could he forget?

Eggsy has to agree. Harry is _his_ and _pregnant_ and Eggsy will go ballistic if someone so much as _breathes_ wrong in his direction. He can't help it. It's what the chemicals in his brain and body urge him to do. A lot like how Harry craves Eggsy's touch, Eggsy is in turn more possessive of Harry. That's what's supposed to happen. All couples go through it. It's the natural order they settle in.

He guesses that what he gets for skipping biology in school.

It's nice to know he isn't going mad. Or becoming an arsehole.

Eggsy gently takes the book out of Harry's hands and thoroughly fucks him until they're both worn out.

~

In the morning their sheets need to wash and Eggsy takes them to the machine while Harry takes a shower and washes Eggsy's come from...well, everywhere.

And after that he thanks their lucky stars that apparently the guest room is far enough away from theirs that nothing was heard. He'd nearly forgotten then had guests.

And that they were Eggsy's mother and sister.

All that really mattered was Eggsy in the moment. Harry winces, that could have been a bloody fucking disaster. And Eggsy--the cheeky little shit--wiggles his eyebrows at him from across the table.

He nearly throws his toast at him. If Michelle and Daisy weren't there, he probably would. And when Daisy lets slip that she and Michelle are going gift shopping, Eggsy gives him another suggestive look as Michelle gasps, "Daisy, love, they weren't supposed to know!"

The little girl looks at Harry, "Uh...oops." 

~

"You are insufferable.", Harry says once they leave.

"Am I?", Eggsy asks, grinning smugly and grabbing Harry by the waist, leading him to the bedroom.

~

The first time, he fucks Harry slow, sweet and deep, wanting it to last. The second time, he bites at Harry's lips and runs his hands through his hair and over his stomach as Harry comes apart beneath him. The third time,  he eats him out, Harry shaking,moaning and panting as Eggsy's tongue laves and dips into his birth canal and entrance, leaving wet, hot trails inside him as Eggsy tastes him, leaving him clutching sheets and coming for the third time. Their afternoon ends with Harry riding him, gasping into his mouth, Eggsy refusing to release his lips or remove hands from his stomach, fingers exploring how low their baby has dropped in Harry's abdomen.

Eggsy watches him with the intensity of a steadily burning fire, and as he tastes Harry's lips again, wonders how someone could have this effect on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I imagine Eggsy being like this while people were congratulating them as they were picking out a tree?  
> Like, go to the link. That's so him. HE WOULD SO DO THAT.  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/51/69/5e/51695ea5441c8dd787ad10a4555d707c.jpg
> 
> He'd be like "Yes look. Look what I did. I did a thing. Look how gorgeous Harry is carrying my baby. LOOK RANDOM STRANGERS, LOOK."  
> And Harry would just facepalm.
> 
>  We really need more possessive Eggsy fics, like come ON, have you SEEN Colin Firth???  
> Also I was listening to a pretty dirty song when I wrote the last part so yeah.


	36. Chapter 36

Harry's not looking forward to labor.

Well, he is in the sense that he's done being pregnant and has had quite about enough. But he's not looking forward to the _pain_.

At all.

Harry knows pain. He and physical pain have a long and complicated history together, but this is going to be...fuck.

~

"We have to take you off your meds.", the doctor says, looking at Harry apologetically. 

One of his last checkups until he's in here for a whole different reason. He's not thinking about that though, because he's blinking at the doctor in a silent question as Eggsy squeezes his hand and wails, "What? Why?"

The physician sighs, "The antidepressants are resulting in blood pressure that's a bit too high for my liking. And in any other case it would be fine because they're supposed to do that to and give you more energy and, as a result, more motivation, but higher blood pressure doesn't mean anything good for childbirth--"

"Alright."

Eggsy looks at Harry in alarm, eyes wide. But Harry means it. It's alright. He doesn't need to rely on a pill. He's been fine.

"There ain't a safer one you can give 'im?", Eggsy asks, looking at the doctor in frantic worry.

The man shakes his head, "No. I'm afraid not."

"Eggsy. It's fine."

And it is. He's been fine for a while. One could argue it's because he's been taking medication, but Harry ignores that thought.

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Eggsy shakes his head, eyes wide and holding Harry's hand tighter, "Harry, this ain't a good idea."

"There doesn't seem to be an alternative.", Harry says, "I don't need them. I can go a few weeks without them." he finishes , looking at the doctor, "It's alright."

The doctor looks between them apologetically and nods,"Arthur, your therapist should be arriving for your session soon, and seeing as moving is difficult for you now I've allowed him to have his session with you in here, just to make things a tad easier."

Harry smiles politely and nods just before the door opens.

"Galahad," the physician asks as the therapist greets Harry, "come with me?"

Eggsy gives Harry a tight smile and follows the man in the white coat out of the examination room. 

The doctor sighs and turns to him, "I know this isn't Ideal, sir. But it's necessary that he stop taking them for now. I know that-"

"Nah, you don't _understand_ , his mental health is important, yeah? He can't be off his meds, especially with as much pain as he's going to be in soon.", Eggsy says, slipping into the mask he wears when he takes on the name Galahad, "He'll deteriorate."

"And that's why I urge you to stay close to him until this ends and he can safely take them again.", the man sighs, "I know this makes it even harder--"

"Yes!" Eggsy snaps, "It does! He was _miserable_ before--"

"I am aware that the stress of childbirth and lack of medication will makes this all the more dangerous for him," the doctor says, "But it's either that or he loses a substantial amount of blood while giving birth because his blood pressure is too high."

"Fuck.", the younger man tugs a hand through his hair.

~

"How are ya feelin'?"

Eggsy looks at Harry, trying (and failing) to mask the worry and concern. It's day one of no medication.

He feels...indifferent, honestly. Harry has no idea if that's cause for alarm or not, because he doesn't feel as focused and clear-headed as he did yesterday or the entire time he was taking them, but he's not _horrible_. He's in that odd, gray space in between.

Not good. Not bad. Just...there.

The older man looks up from his book and at Eggsy, who's paused his (in Harry's opinion) unrealistically violent video game and is gazing up at him from where he rests his head on Harry's stomach.

"I'm fine.", he says nonchalantly, "A bit tired, is all."

Eggsy bites his lip, brows furrowing, "Are you sure?" 

Harry sighs, "The pills weren't my entire personality. _Surely_ you can expect that I'm still myself without them." 

"Yeah, of course. I just...it's my job to make sure you're okay, innit?" 

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but is at a loss for words. 

~

Eggsy doesn't like it.

He knows there's no other choice, but he doesn't like it. And Harry knows he doesn't like it.

He also can't help but he a bit defensive. He didn't rely _that_ heavily on pills, did he? 

Harry does feel a bit blank without them, but he's not at the same extreme he was before, so clearly it's an improvement.

~

Four days later he decides...no. Not a fucking improvement.

He wakes up and Eggsy's gone, which already puts him on edge and for some embarrassing reason makes him _incredibly_ upset. Daisy cheers him up a bit, but later on he drops a bowl simply because he zones out and isn't paying attention, then thinks maybe Eggsy did have a right to be concerned.

He stares at the shattered ceramic on the floor for a long time, and distantly hears Michelle and Daisy moving around upstairs. Harry doesn't quite know when his breath started picking up at an alarming rate, he was too busy looking at the destroyed bowl and trying to break out of the endless loop of 'I dropped it. I dropped it. I dropped it.' that runs through his head.

I dropped it.

I dropped it.

I dropped it.

It's not a big deal, he knows it isn't. A pain in the arse to clean up maybe, but not a big deal.

So why can't he catch his breath?

After a long, silent and panicked few moments he is able to find his way to the couch and closes his eye, trying not to fucking hyperventilate. Over a bowl, no less.

Idiotic.

How unnecessarily _dramatic_.

Harry sits there gasping and panicking (and it doesn't escape him that a few tears have slipped out and make it's way down his cheek) for a pathetically long time, and after a while he feels a presence then small arms wrapping him in a hug.

Daisy.

"Oh no. Harry feels so sad. Don't be sad.", she says softly, almost like she's talking to herself as she tightens her grip, "Harry should never be sad."

Harry's erratic breathing calms a bit, and Daisy hugs him tighter.

"Harry is good. And good people shouldn't be sad.", she says, "Hugs help." 

He lets out a watery laugh and eventually calms down enough to hug her back.

"Thank you, Daisy." 

~

Eggsy comes back with groceries and barely gets to put them down and wonder where Harry is before Daisy tugs at his sleeve and asks, "Why was Harry sad?" 

Eggsy's brow furrows, "Whaddya mean, Dais?" 

"Harry was sad." 

He puts the groceries down and kneels to be eye-level with his sister, "What happened, Dais?" 

"Harry was breathing fast and so sad.", she says, "Hugs made it better." 

Eggsy pushes down the worry long enough to smile and softly pinch Daisy's cheek, "Thanks for lookin' out for 'im when I was gone, Dais." 

"Harry takes care of me." she shrugs, smiling wide, "I wanna help too." 

Eggsy hugs and tickles her while she squeals in laughter before going off to find Harry. He tries not to let the worry and feeling of impending doom choke him.

~  
"Daisy told me you were upset.", Eggsy whispers, slipping into bed next to Harry, facing him.

He'd figured Harry would be in their bedroom, and wasn't surprised to see him on the bed, on his side, staring dejectedly at the wall opposite him.

Not a good sign. 

"Just a minor emotional break.", Harry answers, voice dull.

Fuck. He sounds...like he's not even here. 

Eggsy can only sigh, tug Harry close, offer comfort and try not to start panicking.

~

And just like that, they're back. Harry zones out during conversation, hardly talks and Eggsy can basically _see_ the stress and physical pains taking their toll on him. Michelle gives him worried looks and Eggsy is constantly hovering over him. 

And Harry _tries_ , he does, they can all see it, but he's exhausted and emotionally tired. Not to mention dealing with being so close to his due date.

He tries even harder for Daisy, who wants to read books and play card games with him, and for the most part he can keep up the cheer for the child, but that's about it. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't know the medication was such a large part of why I've been easier to deal with all this time.", he says to Eggsy one night in bed, snow falling outside their window, "I didn't intend to be this way again. I know how hard this has been for you--" 

"Shh, Harry.", Eggsy soothes, running a hand through the older man's hair, "It ain't about me, alright?" 

"Yes. It is.", Harry says quietly, "This has been stressful for you too. I apologize for being the cause of it." 

"You ain't a _problem_ for me, Harry.", Eggsy sighs, "Stop thinkin' you are. You ain't a burden. I love you and there's no one else I'd rather be with. I'm just really fuckin' chuffed that I get a second chance with you." 

"As am I.", Harry says. 

"And just because the meds help more than you thought don't mean that you're weak or sumfin'.", Eggsy says, "That's like sayin' you're weak for needin' food or water. It ain't weakness. It's just sumfin' else you need." 

It snows through the night. 

~ 

On December 21st, Harry wakes up to slight spasming pains, thinks nothing of it, and eventually falls back asleep.

The faux contractions are nothing new, but by noon his back hurts more than it ever has and he has to excuse himself to the bathroom and try to breathe through it. Michelle and Daisy are upstairs wrapping the gifts they've bought, and Eggsy is in the kitchen making tea. Harry takes a breath and exhales, wincing through another spark of pain. God, he can barely _think_.

He's only alone for about two minutes before Eggsy appears and wraps an arm around him, taking his hand.

"Shit, love you okay?", he asks frantically, trying to make out the nature of the problem by Harry's face.

"Just some pain, is all.", Harry says, wincing and clutching the rim of the sink with the hand that isn't wrapped in Eggsy's, knuckles turning white.

"Looks like more than a little bit of pain, Harry.", the younger man says, pressing closer in worry, "Jesus, you're goin' pale. Do you need anythin'? What can I do to help?" 

Harry struggles and takes another breath, trying to avoid squeezing Eggsy's hand too hard. If he can avoid breaking his bones, he would like to, thank you very much.

"I don't think there's much that can be done.", he gasps, clenching his eyes shut and breathing heavy as another wave of pain hits him. 

Eggsy looks on in apology and worry bordering on being in pain _himself_ , because he can do nothing to help.  

Harry sighs and takes another deep breath, Eggsy holding his hand with an arm wrapped around him, steadying him. 

And honestly, Harry should have seen this coming, but for some reason it's a surprise when a steady stream of _something_ trickles down his leg followed by another clenching pain. It all clicks. He's a bloody fucking _idiot_. How did he not consider this _first_? 

Contractions. 

He was awoken by them, but brushed them off, and now he gets it. 

Labor.

Now.

And he's mildly (really fucking) terrified. He knew it would happen but somehow he isn't ready. Shit. He goes white in fear.

It fucking _hurts_.

Even the word 'hurts' sounds like an understatement.

"I think," Harry starts, voice gone soft in pain, exhaling as another contraction passes, "my water may have just broke."

It's almost funny how nonchalantly he tries to say it, like Eggsy will be more inclined to keep his head if Harry says it a certain way. Like it isn't a big deal.

He, surprising no one, is wrong.

Eggsy starts and goes white as a sheet, "Shit."

"That's one word to describe it.", Harry says, biting his lip as another contraction hits him.

"W-we gotta get you to the medbay. The doctor. Fuck.", Eggsy says frantically, "C'mon love,", he says, holding the pained man steady as he walks him to the couch, "I'm gonna get the stuff and we're gonna go. It's be okay, yeah? Just breathe, love. I-I'll be right back."

Harry nods, and really, he's not paying too much attention, not even when a frantic Michelle takes his hands and tells him to breathe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because I'm super tired.


	37. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UGHHH

Okay, I'm gonna say this once.

I just got some really annoying and rude comment about how the medical parts of this fic are inaccurate and someone was offended by it or whatever (I didn't read the entire thing because honestly, I just woke up, haven't had my coffee and have other comments to reply to). It was long and condescending and I only read the first paragraph before I decided I'm not fucking _doing_ this. I deleted the comment because _good god_ , I simply don't have the patience or the time, but I'm going to say this ONCE AND ONLY ONCE.

If you're taking medical advice from a fic on Ao3, you really want to reconsider and maybe check your judgment and make some adjustments. I am not a _fucking_ doctor, nor did I claim to be. No one needs to arrive in the comments and try to prove they're a special snowflake because they (rudely) pointed out something wrong. If you're polite about it I will (and have) changed points around so they're accurate, but if you step to me and you're an ass off the bat, I will not listen to you. And if I do not delete your comment first, you'll have the displeasure of arguing with me.

I do not dish out rudeness or condescension, so I will not accept it in return.

If you want medical advice, you know where you can find that?? 

THE GODDAMN DOCTOR.

My job is to push the plot along, not give a goddamn health lesson.

This is mainly to one person, the rest of you have been amazing, even when you have corrections, you're very cordial about it and I love you all, but to that one person and others in the future, no one thinks you're smart because you called out something wrong on some fic one time and were a jerk about it. There are inaccuracies in fic all the time, and the readers _are_ smart enough to not be like "I can't take antidepressants because that fic I read one time said..."

Being angry at every inaccuracy in fics is a lot like walking into an arts school and being upset that you're not finding any classes on medicine or engineering. Like, I don't know what you were expecting, but...

Just take a breath and tell yourself it ain't that deep. Because it isn't. Seriously. 

Anyway, I love you guys and to the ones that have been respectful in their corrections, I love you and you're awesome.

I love criticism and correction, you guys know that, but rudeness is something I won't tolerate. No one should be hopping on the comments of ANYONE'S fic and being rude, but I _certainly_ am not the one.

Anyway, love you guys and hope to have an update soon, I really feel bad when I leave you guys hanging for too long.

<3

P.S: The writer of this fic (ME) actually suffers from depression and is on two different meds for it (and I am fully aware of what antidepressants do and don't do, and the fact that I have to remind you that this is a work of FICTION is honestly extremely annoying), so if that's your main attack then idk what to tell you buddy, because....

 

P.P.S: Also, there are studies that show that certain antidepressants DO cause high blood pressure. Like Wellbutrin, Nardil or Effexor. So eat my ass.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, some of you are a trip. Really.  
> Anyway, for the people that can actually pull the stick out of their asses and stretch their imagination enough to have some fucking fun, here are one of the last chapters! Thanks for your sweet comments on my author's note, guys. It means a lot that I have your support!
> 
> Love yall!

It's amazing what you miss when all your energy is focused on _just_ breathing.

Which, on a normal day, is not something Harry needs to think about.

This, however, isn't a normal day.

Honestly, he would _kill_ for a normal day. Or at least one where it didn't feel like his insides were being ripped out.

(Though that would probably be _less_ painful than this.)

The point is that he focuses on breathing and can feel himself moving and being moved, but he can't quite put it all together, really.

Harry catches snippets of words and at one point he _thinks_ he's in the car (he really hopes that he can regain his attention and clarity of mind after this, because being confused whenever something that even resembles pain filters into his body has gotten old incredibly quickly.), and somehow knows that Eggsy is nearby.

If he could think past the pain that racks him in evenly spaced intervals he would be comforted by that fact.

Though for now he can't really muster any emotion other than frustration (and fear).

Even so, he knows the medbay when he arrives--and according to the voices around him--followed my Michelle, Daisy and Roxy, who seems have arrived at some point while he wasn't paying attention.

This hurts more than anything he's ever experienced.

~

Eggsy is only barely able to be tugged away as the doctors take Harry to get him set up, Roxy keeping a steel grip on his arm. 

She looks somewhat stressed herself, but judging from how Michelle glances at him in worry, he must look a right _mess_. It's not like he wasn't expecting this, it's just that it's still a bit terrifying. The fact that Harry is in pain, the fact that right now he's separated from him, the fact that before the day is out a baby is going to be placed in his arms, screaming bloody murder.

The baby is definitely the high point, of course. And getting to see Harry's face when he sees their baby for the first time.

But fuck, Eggsy's scared as _shit_. 

"Where," Michelle starts, looking around at the high ceilings and mahogany decor, "exactly _are_ we, babe?" 

He knows his mum well, which means he knows that she's trying to distract him from having a heart attack. He has no idea what to tell her, because rambling about what Kingsman is right now is more than he can take.

"Private physician.", Roxy says, tone nonchalant enough that the woman has no doubt believing her. Michelle nods and puts a comforting hand on her boy's shoulder.

The minutes tick by in the world's slowest and most stressful parade, and Roxy doesn't let up her grip on his arm. Even Daisy is quieter than usual, sensing that something rather serious is going on.

Eggsy takes a shaky breath in the same moment the doctor comes to retrieve him. Roxy lets go of him lightening fast, shoving him toward the doctor, and Eggsy's heart pounds as he looks back.

"Go on, babe. Be with him." Michelle says, smiling softly to comfort him, "We'll be out here." 

Roxy nods and Daisy absentmindedly plays with her mother's hair.

Eggsy goes.

The door clicks shut but he barely hears it, eyes focused on the scene before him. Harry has been changed and placed on a hospital bed, the curtains half drawn and doctors that Eggsy has never even _seen_ milling about.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest and his blood rushing through his ears. 

The younger man is comforted by the fact that Harry looks a bit more alert now, though obviously in pain, and Eggsy's first order of business is to take his hand and brush his hair off his forehead. 

"Squeeze my hand if you need to, yeah?", he tells him. 

Harry manages a weak laugh, "Don't say _that_ , you won't have any bones left by the end." 

Eggsy huffs a laugh through a smile, "Don't matter." 

Harry exhales shaky breath and looks at Eggsy, "You'll be complaining by tomorrow." 

"I think we'll both be a little too busy, tomorrow. Don't ya think?", he says cheekily, trying to distract Harry from the pain with conversation.

"We will, won't we?", Harry says quietly a moment later. 

"Yeah," Eggsy replies, giving his hand a comforting squeeze, "We will." 

~

Harry ends up squeezing Eggsy's hand whether he wants to take the younger man up on the offer or not.

The staff bring Eggsy a chair because apparently labor can last for an extraordinarily long time, and _god_ , he really hopes this isn't one of those cases because Harry has been through quite enough. But in the end what's going to happen is going to happen and Eggsy can only be there to comfort him and try to distract him.

But still, he can only do so much. He can't ease the stifling pain his lover is in, and the realization is an awful one.

And yes, he anticipated the fear for Harry's well being, but being privy to Harry's heavy, pained breathing and having to see his face show extreme pain so plainly is harder than he could have ever anticipated. And knowing it'll only get worse is...well, _worse_.

And yeah, they've talked about a C-section with the doctor, but the risk of infection, blood loss and a significantly longer recovery time (and possibly having to take more trips to the doctor even afterwards because of things like blood clots or adhesions), made them rethink the idea. And when Harry learned that c-sections oftentimes results in the baby having respiratory problems, he was completely turned off by the idea and refused to budge on the subject.

Harry squeezes his hand and shakily gasps for breath, sounding pained and exhausted.

"Sir?"

Eggsy nearly jumps a foot in the air, attention ripped from Harry and directed to a female doctor looking at Harry in concern, "We're going to administer some pain medication, alright? Can you breathe for me? In, out, in out. Good. Just try to relax, okay? You're doing fine." she finishes kindly, giving Eggsy a warm smile.

"You're doing great too, just keep encouraging him, okay?"

Eggsy nods, leaning back into Harry and gently telling him to breathe, trying to hide how fucking scared _shitless_ he is.

"You're doin' great okay?", he soothes as Harry squeezes his hand tightly, eyes clenching shut in pain, "Breathe alright? Can you do that, love? Breathe for me? C'mon," he prods gently, brushing Harry's hair out of his face again, "In, out, in, out...you're doin' great, love." 

The doctors check on him and prepare, rushing about and talking in hushed tones. If he wasn't so occupied with talking to Harry, he'd have enough energy to worry about what they're talking about.

~ 

Eggsy isn't sure how long it's been because he doesn't have his phone and refuses to go looking for a clock. He refuses to let go of Harry's hand even though he knows it's been hours.

He's been forced to watch as the pain got worse, Harry going from gasping to gritting his teeth and crying out.

At around evening (Eggsy guesses) Harry develops a fever that worries the doctors into hovering around the hospital bed, checking readings as Eggsy tries to keep calm and keep up a steady stream of speech to try and distract Harry as much as he possibly can. 

"I'm here," Eggsy says, trying to keep his voice steady as Harry's eye clenches shut and his body goes rigid, the fever obviously making him even more tired and weak.

"I'm here. I'm here. It's okay. Breathe for me, yeah? In, out, in, out..."

~ 

Eggsy can see that the sun has gone down outside the windows of the medbay.

He loses track of time.

Harry's fever grows worse around the time it comes time for him to push. Eggsy has taken to just full on standing over him, kissing his cheeks and rambling an endless loop of , ''You can do this. I know you can. I love you. You're doin' fine." 

Though it's a bit far from the truth. The fever makes things all the more difficult, and it's obvious that Harry, though trying (and _fuck_ , Eggsy is so fucking _proud_ of him, even as he panics and feels like his heart is going to stop), is weakened and overwhelmed though he can't say as much because he can barely _breathe_ in between pushing and gasping in excruciating pain.

The doctors suspect the fever is a result of the pain killers.

~

Harry passes out twice.

He awakens from the pain and passes out again because of it, and Eggsy tries to keep calm when the doctor tells him that it's rather normal.

Doesn't make it any easier to watch.

Eggsy still doesn't know how long it's been.

~

It seems to stretch on forever.

Eggsy feels nauseous and sick with fear all at once, and Harry seems to be hurting more and more as time goes on.

But then something changes, even before the first shrill cry pierces the air. It's high and clearly unhappy, but the younger man doesn't pull his eyes away from Harry.

The doctors move about, and it isn't until Harry relaxes his grip on Eggsy's hand and the same female doctor leans over and tells him, "A healthy baby boy. You've done _so_ well." that Eggsy's mind can finally start working again.

That sound is their _baby_.

 _Crying_.

He's _here_.

Harry's breath goes shallow and his face relaxes, though he doesn't open his eye, looking sweaty and pink and _exhausted_. His hair clings to his forehead despite how many times Eggsy has brushed it away, and his chest slowly rises and falls as the pain recedes. It's over.

It's over.

Harry is okay.

He isn't hurting so much he can't breathe anymore. Harry did it. His Harry did it. Brought their baby into the world no matter how much it hurt and how weak he was.

He did it.

Eggsy has never been so proud of anything or anyone ever. Even laying there sweaty and exhausted, Harry is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

And then the crying gets _louder_ and _closer_ then a small, white blanket burrito edges into his line of sight.  

It's wiggling and Eggsy's mind can't catch up with his body as he accepts the small, wailing package with soft and gentle care, and looks down into the face of his son. Eggsy's eyes widen and his breath quickens as he registers the weight of their newborn in his arms and sees his pink face as he cries and moves in his hold.

This is _him_. This is Henry. Their _baby_. 

And for a few moments Eggsy sits there stunned, looking down at this tiny (and loud) little thing that they've created. He's perfect. He's small and clearly upset (if the crying is anything to go by), and wrinkly and pink and _theirs_.

He has a head of brown curls (obviously from Harry) and button nose that looks like his own, and shit...this is their _baby_. He's _here_. He's here and he's crying and fussy and refusing to open his eyes just yet, determined to make his displeasure known first.

" _Hey_ ," Eggsy chokes, eyes watering and his face breaking into a smile so big it hurts, "hey Henry. Hey baby. It's _daddy_. We've been waiting for you."

The tiny thing sniffles and quiets slightly at the sound of his voice, Eggsy holding his breath in awe as little Henry opens his eyes for the first time. 

Eggsy's breath catches when he sees their baby's eyes, blinking open and up at him.

One green-blue, and one brown. 

Eggsy can't help huffing a watery laugh. Of course.

Of course _their_ baby would be unable to decide between his parents' eye colors and instead his DNA would opt for one of each. Of _course_. Only little Henry Unwin-Hart. So unique already.

Henry looks up at him in interest, still crying softly but squinting up at Eggsy's beaming face as he decides whether he would like to keep crying or stop for now and pick it up later. He decides to keep wailing.

It's the best sound he's ever heard. He can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of him, one tear spilling down his face as he cradles their baby.

Eggsy can't help kissing Henry's soft, wet little cheek before turning and looking at the exhausted man on the hospital bed.

"Harry.", he says in an excited and breathless whisper, "Look. It's our little Henry, that's our baby cryin'." 

Harry stirs after a moment, blinking awake with an exhausted sigh. Eggsy presses closer to him and cradles their baby, watching as Harry sleepily catches his first glimpse of Henry.

Harry looks at the little wailing thing in awe, fighting exhaustion to see the little person they've created. 

He's sweaty, tired and sore but _it doesn't matter_. The pain of the last nine months _don't matter_ and the hours of pushing and struggling to breathe _don't matter_.

It was all worth it. Every second. No doubt in his mind.

"Hello, Henry." Harry says softly, smiling slowly at the newborn, voice hoarse, "You're quite adorable, aren't you?" 

The baby quiets down immediately, hearing Harry's voice before opening his eyes, looking at him as Eggsy moves closer to give them both a better view of each other. 

Harry huffs a small, tired laugh, "Heterochromia.", he says quietly, looking at their baby with love plain on his face, "His eyes." 

"Yeah," Eggsy whispers, "Harry, look what we did. He's _here_."

"So he is. He has your nose.", Harry smiles, looking at their baby like he's the only thing that matters in the entire universe.

"Your hair.", the younger man says softly and reverently, heart swelling when Harry lifts one tired hand to softly caress their baby's cheek.

"He's so small.", Harry breathes, gazing at their baby in adoration, "He's absolutely _perfect_."

Eggsy can't help it, he looks at Harry's lovestruck face that he's sure matches his own, and kisses him, their baby gurgling between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If childbirth sounds fucking horrifyingly awful and you'd rather rip off your own face than go through it clap your hands!!  
> *clap clap*
> 
> People who do are fucking badasses though. Seriously. Like...major props to you people. You're on a higher plane of existence.
> 
> Also thanks so much for your support and the sweet comments on my author's note, I love you guys. Really.


	39. Chapter 39

Eventually Henry's cries die down and Harry is succumbing to his exhaustion, but obviously doesn't want to be away from their baby for even a second. Eggsy gets a silent okay from the nurse, and he gently puts Henry by Harry's head and can't help but beam as Harry gathers enough energy to turn onto his side, facing the sleepy baby and wrapping an arm around the tiny, wiggling little thing, cradling him.

They're a sight. A beautiful one. 

Harry, before nodding off, smiles warmly and so _happily_ as Henry's tiny arm clumsily grabs his hand and refuses to let go, even as he closes his eyes and falls asleep next to his father. 

Eggsy looks down at his little family, and tries to keep his heart from bursting.

The medbay is almost empty except for one nurse who checks the machines and hovers around in case she's needed. The room is dimly lit, the moon outside the window, and the sky midnight blue.

It's quiet and peaceful, a vast contrast to how it was just two hours ago. Eggsy should be tired, but he isn't. He just softly runs a hand through Harry's messy hair and runs a finger down Henry's soft, velvety cheek.

His family, on a hospital bed. Harry exhausted from giving birth and Henry exhausted from being brought into the world. Harry and their son, cuddled together and peacefully asleep.

They're complete. A family. Tired, messy-haired and breathing softly in the dark room as they drift off for some much-needed rest.

They're perfect and they're his.

~

"Oh my god," Michelle breathes, eyes tearing as she walks up to the hospital bed quietly, "Oh, he's so _tiny_. Eggsy, he's _perfect_." 

"He's so _cute_.", Roxy whispers, eyes wide, "Oh my god. My godson is _adorable_. He _clearly_ gets it from me."

Only about ten minutes after Harry and Henry had fallen asleep has Eggsy learned what time it was. 3 am.

Harry's labor was longer than he thought, and he'd finally found the strength to tear his eyes away from the pair snuggled together on the bed long enough to go get his mum and Roxy from the waiting room. He cringed, they've been out there for _hours_ and he'd felt guilty already. 

He pushed the door open only to be faced with his mum and Dais asleep on one of the soft couches of the waiting room, with Roxy on the one on the other side. He'd taken in the scene with a light smile, picked up the bag they'd brought with the clothes and such for Harry and the baby, and nudged them all awake.

And that's why they're all standing around a sleeping Harry and Henry, cooing at the sleeping baby and in Michelle's case, trying to fight off tears.

"Babe, he's gorgeous," Michelle sniffles, adjusting a sleeping Daisy on her hip.

"I want to hold him first when he wakes up." Roxy whispers, running a gentle finger over the baby's chubby arm as he holds onto Harry in his sleep/

"You might have to fight mum for that one, Rox." Eggsy grins, putting the bag down and nudging her.

Michelle huffs a watery laugh as the nurse quietly brings in a few more plush chairs for them to sleep in if they need to, and Michelle puts Daisy gently down in one before wrapping Eggsy in a tight hug.

"I'm so bloody proud of you, babe." she sniffles, "You've grown up to be such a gentleman. A good, loving and responsible man. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks mum." 

~

Harry wakes up before the rest of them.

He blinks awake, soreness dully making it's way through his body as he catches sight of the chairs surrounding his bed. Eggsy sits the closest, arm on the armrest and resting his chin on his hand, eyes closed and fast asleep. Roxy curled up on her red velvet cushioned chair sideways, Michelle and Daisy's chairs pushed together as they slept peacefully.

The sight is incredibly endearing.

Harry takes in the sunshine streaming in through the windows, and the snow softly falling outside until he hears the smallest little snuffling noise and looks down to see Henry, his baby, stirring and twisting his chubby, pink face before opening his eyes a crack, looking up at Harry in sleepy interest.

He gazes down at the little thing he'd worked so hard to bring into the world only hours before, and feels his heart swelling in immediate, absolute love. Fierce yet gentle and oh so _unconditional_. This is _him_. This is his _baby_. The baby he's spoken to and soothed when he kicked at night. The baby that he felt move and grow.

He's here, chubby, pink and sleepy, blinking up at Harry with his different colored eyes and soft cheeks.

The medbay is quiet as the rest of them sleep, but Harry forces sore arms to pick up his baby and hold the newborn to him, sitting up slowly and cradling Henry as he blinks up at him, eyes widening in interest as he is held by Harry for the first time.

"Good morning, Henry.", Harry says softly, gently pressing a kiss to his baby's cheek, "I'm so glad you're finally here, and I love you more than you can ever know." 

And for a long time, before everyone wakes up and fills the air with cheers and coos, Harry gets to cradle his little Henry close as the baby gurgles quietly and happily up at him. In the quiet, sunny morning light, they get to meet each other, and Henry stares up at Harry and waves an arm in the air with a lack of coordination that makes Harry laugh quietly before letting the baby wrap his tiny hand around his finger, holding tight. 

They're in a little bubble of their own for this long, magical moment where Harry coos, whispers 'I love you's'. 'You're perfect' and 'I'm so happy you're here' and presses soft, gentle kisses to his baby boy's cheeks and forehead.

It's worth it. It was all worth it. Every little bit of it. He'd go through it all again, and again, and again if it meant that in the end he ended up here, holding his baby boy. The baby boy he'd brought into the world, despite how hard and painful it was.

His little Henry.

~

Daisy wakes up first. Harry is alerted to her regain in consciousness when she sniffles and wiggles in the plush chair she's been asleep in before opening her eyes and blinking in the morning light, yawning.

He cradles a wiggling Henry and watches as the girl blinks and looks around before catching sight of Harry, sitting up in bed with a bundle in his arms. Harry waves her over as her eyes widen in excitement, and she pulls herself onto the bed gently (sensing that this is a time that being quiet is preferable to noise) and carefully shuffles over to Harry, large blue eyes darting between him and the bundle in his arms. 

Harry manages to pull her closer and show her the baby in his arms, wrapped in a blanket and blinking at her in interest.

Daisy's eyes pop open and she can't help a quiet gasp.

"He's so cute!" she gushes, bouncing on the bed slightly in excitement, "His eyes are different colors, Harry! He's so small and chubby!" 

"Yes," he smiles, "He is. He will grow, though." 

"How fast?" 

"You'll see, miss Daisy." 

"Can I poke his cheek?" she whispers, eyes never moving from the newborn who looks at her with big eyes. 

Harry huffs a laugh, "Very gently." 

And she does. She very gently pokes the baby's cheek, smiling as the chubb gives way and Henry wiggles in Harry's arms. 

"He's so soft.", she breathes, "And cute. When can I hold him?" 

"It'll be a little while, I'm afraid.", he tells her, "He's still very new and very fragile." 

Daisy nods, "Okay. Can I kiss him, though?" 

Harry smiles, " _That_ , you can do." 

She beams and leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Henry's cheek as the baby gurgles and blinks at her. 

"I think he's gonna be fun to play with when he gets big." she tells Harry, completely seriously and like that fact is the most important thing on the planet.

"I imagine so.", Harry says, smiling at the little girl.

~

Michelle slowly awakens next, and rushes to Harry's side to look at her grandson, the air around her buzzing with excitement. 

"His eyes are beautiful.", she sniffles, "And a head full of curls! What a _gorgeous_ little thing you are. I'm your grandma," she adds and Harry carefully hands her the newborn, looking on as Michelle cradles her grandson with happy tears slipping down her cheeks.

"I'm your grandma, love.", she coos, "Yeah, and you're my little grandbaby aren't you? Oh, you're beautiful and I love you so much. Look at you, you're simply adorable."

Michelle sways a bit with the baby in her arms before she hands him back to Harry after a few moments with a smirk and a, "I know the feeling. When Eggsy was born I couldn't _stand_ going too long without holding him. Drove me nuts even letting a member of the family hold him for too long and I always felt a bit wrong until I had him back in my arms.", she winks, "It's normal."

Harry gives her a grateful look and takes Henry back in his arms with a smile.

~

"Look at my little godson!", Roxy beams after she wakes up next, leaning over the side of the hospital bed and cooing at the wiggling baby blinking back up at her, "I'm going to teach you how to break so many bones, little guy. And for the record, I'm a lot cooler than your dad Eggsy. You don't understand what that means now, but just remember that for future reference."

Harry can't help the bubble of laughter that rises from his chest, and he lets Roxy take down the railing on one side of the bed so she can sit beside him and hold Henry. She beams and coos and gently bounces the baby in her arms, eyes soft.

~

"Why ain't no one wake me up?", Eggsy grumbles and yawns, sitting up and blinking the last dredges of sleep out of his eyes. 

"You were awake for far too long," Harry says, flashing him a soft smile as he holds Henry, "You needed the rest." 

Eggsy rubs his eyes and smiles sleepily when he sees Harry holding Henry, curly hair sleep-disheveled and smile light. There's a brightness in his eyes that knocks the breath out of Eggsy.

Harry's fucking beautiful, sitting there with that soft smile, holding their baby and looking at the little wiggling thing in his arms with such love and _adoration_. 

Eggsy can't help it. He kisses him.

~

"Am I interrupting?" 

Eggsy looks up from his place on the bed with Harry as they bond with their baby, and sees Merlin at the door.

Roxy turns a shade of red that Eggsy is going to make fun of her for later, and quickly adjusts her clothes and hair, trying not to look like she's slept in them. 

"No, not at all.", Harry says, looking at the quartermaster. 

Merlin hesitantly steps into the room and makes his way to their hospital bed when Eggsy waves him over. 

"My god.", the man says, looking at Henry, "He's a _cute_ little thing, isn't he?"

~

The doctor comes in briefly to check on Harry and the baby, humming in approval when he discovers that Harry's fever broke and Henry is stable (if a bit fussy).

They can go home.

Harry reluctantly relinquishes Henry and passes him to Michelle as Eggsy helps him up and to the bathroom. He's sore, and still  bit tired, but the shower feels wonderful. It's also nice to not be the size of a planet anymore.

He dresses and then dresses a squirming Henry in his onesie, Eggsy putting on their son's hat and kissing his cheek. 

They don't leave immediately--everyone is reluctant to break the warm vibe of the little circle of family and friends who _might as well_ be family--Eggsy and Harry holding Henry between them, Roxy and Merlin flirting and Michelle laughing with Daisy.

Henry makes a little huffing sound, and Merlin, surprisingly enough, is the one that hands Harry a warm baby bottle that he'd taken from the bag and heated.

"Just guessed.", the quartermaster shrugs, as Eggsy smirks at him, "Aren't infants _always_ hungry?" 

Harry feeds him, humming softly as Henry wiggles his nose as he drinks the formula from the bottle. Michelle sits next to him, cooing and rubbing his cheeks. 

In the span of time between Henry's arrival and when they get home, the baby has gotten more love and kisses than any other child on the planet. Eggsy is sure of it.

Eggsy struggles with the car seat and Harry laughs at him, Roxy rolls her eyes and sets it up with hardly a problem and Merlin looks at her like she's a goddess. 

And it's just like last time. They all take the cab and Merlin nods approvingly when he steps inside their new home, Henry making a sleepy little sound as Eggsy carries him through their front door for the first time.

And though they don't lead ordinary lives, it's an ordinary holiday family gathering. Michelle makes hot chocolate, Daisy kisses and bothers Henry as he tries to sleep (and Harry can't help thinking it's the funniest thing he's seen in ages, next to Eggsy struggling with the car seat), Roxy and Merlin sit close together on the couch, blushing and talking while Eggsy takes pictures of Daisy and Henry's interaction.

She giggles and pokes the baby's cheek, smiling wide when he wiggles his nose and stares at her.

~

Jamal and Ryan arrive not too long afterwards, and make a beeline straight past Eggsy and directly to Henry, who's fighting sleep in that way babies do when they think something interesting is going on.

"Oi!", Eggsy says, throwing up his hands in exasperation as they ignore him in favor of staring at Henry in awe, "What am I, then? Chopped liver?"

"Oh my god.", Jamal breathes, eyes wide, "Look at 'im. He's so _cute_."

"He's so _tiny_.", Ryan adds, "Bruv, look at his eyes! _Aces_."

"Not even a 'hello'." Eggsy grumbles, "Or a 'Hey Eggsy, bruv, how are ya?'. Unbelieveable."

"Well you ain't _nearly_ as cute as him.", Jamal says, gesturing to the baby, before greeting Harry and joining Daisy in entertaining the infant.

Ryan makes his way over to Eggsy where he watches Jamal and Daisy play with Henry, Harry looking on in amusement.

"I think you're in trouble, bruv.", Eggsy tells him, smirking and nodding towards Jamal. He looks absolutely taken with the baby, and Ryan blanches.

"Shit. Now he's gonna want one.", he winces, "I mean, I do too, yeah? Ev'ntually, but--", he pauses, thinking, "I dunno I think I wa'na just have Jamal to myself, for now. 'Nd when we're ready, sure."

"Yeah well, when you do, I'll be sure to just walk past 'nd ignore ya when ya bring lil bit home.", Eggsy gripes, nudging him. Ryan rolls his eyes.

~

"Gracie!", Daisy shrieks happily as Eggsy opens the door for the smiling set of American Kingsman. Steven is holding Grace, whose head whips around when she hears Daisy's voice before wiggling until her dad puts her down. 

They'd called them soon after Jamal and Ryan showed up. Why not make it a party and call all their friends? The house is filled with chatter and laughter as Harry greets April and pulls her into conversation after she sees Henry and coos at him for a moment. Steven and Eggsy strike up a very animated conversation about the difference between the Kingsman branch weapons and tools. Daisy takes Grace by the hand and leads her to Henry, smiling big when Grace gasps and says, "He's so cute. And small!"

"That's what I said!, Daisy beams, shuffling closer to her friend as they play with the baby, Harry and April looking on in amusement.

~

Christmas is pretty much the same. Steven and April are leaving on the 26th, and Daisy plays with her friend as much as she can when the bouncy, curly-haired little girl arrives. Merlin arrives with gifts and wine, before Roxy shows up with gifts and a kiss for Henry and a smile for the rest of them. Harry starts taking his meds again that day.

And it's so... _nice_. Especially after everything. Harry would like to get back to being a Kingsman agent, of course, but as he gets to sit there with Eggsy's arm around him as he holds their baby, he thinks that can wait.

The entire world can wait. 

**~3 months later~**

"You're getting that.", Harry mumbles, rolling over as Henry's cries float through the baby monitor.

 _Goodness_ , that baby boy has a set of lungs on him.

Eggsy grumbles and shifts next to him, "Why can't you do it?" 

Harry yawns, "I gave birth to him." 

"Ya can't use that excuse forever.", Eggsy slurs, wincing as Henry starts screaming louder, demanding attention.

"I have at least six more months to use it.", Harry yawns, "I'm making the most of it." 

Eggsy opens his eyes a crack, "Fine.", he says sleepily trudging out of bed and rubbing his eyes as he walks down the dark hallway into Henry's room. 

"Hey lil bit.", he says, smiling sleepy at their baby, "You're hungry, ain't ya?" 

~

Harry has gotten used to baby puke and spit-up ending up on the burping towel he uses for Henry after every meal. 

They have a routine.

Eggsy feeds Henry, talking to the infant softly as he sways, holding his bottle and watching the baby drink. The he passes him off to Harry, who hangs the burping towel over his shoulder and holds the baby, patting his back to get any air in his small stomach out before it can cause the infant any discomfort.

They work so well together that sometimes Harry wonders how he could have ever thought about living any other way. 

~

Eggsy dances with Henry. Sometimes slowly, humming something soothing. Sometimes the baby is awake and smiling, and Eggsy decides to be a little more active. He loves making his baby laugh. It's the best sound he's ever heard.

Sometimes he holds Henry for hours, just savoring the feeling of their baby on his chest, dozing and making those little sniffling noises in his ear.

He couldn't be happier.

~

Harry laughs lightly at the baby's expression when he feels the lukewarm water for his first bath. Henry looks surprised by the warmth and the fact that Eggsy is hovering over him taking way more pictures than they'll ever need to remember this moment. Eggsy always takes too many pictures. Better too many than not enough, he'd said, grinning at Harry.

Henry clearly likes the water, judging by his toothless, wide smile that makes them both beam themselves.

~

Henry decides he doesn't like the car at first. He despises his car seat even more. He's so used to being held in his parents' arms that now that he _isn't_ and things are moving, he throws a fit. He doesn't always cry, sometimes he just gives Eggsy a slightly betrayed look as he straps the baby in.

He's fine when they get to the grocery store, where one of them has him in the carrier while the other fills the cart, probably because he's closer to them when he's in it.

~

Henry has separation anxiety when it comes to both of them, but _especially_ Harry. He figures it's because he'd been inside him for nine months, and thus is attached because Harry's who he came from. Seeing as Harry was carrying him, he was hearing Harry's voice more than anyone else's.

Eggsy thinks that maybe he's should be harboring at least a _modicum_ of jealousy, but he likes watching Harry with their baby just as much as holding their baby himself. So it works out for him. When Henry cries and the only solution is for him to be held by Harry, he gets to see the love of his life soothing their son.

~

Henry is, oddly enough, fine with the stroller.

Harry has been dreading a meltdown that would make him feel guilty enough to concede and carry the baby everywhere, but when Henry is dressed and strapped in with the clear, protective stroller shield blocking him from the wind and such, he seems fine.

Eggsy's just as surprised as Harry is. They realize that Henry is simply too taken with the scenery passing by to be fussy.

**~7 months later~**

"Merlin," Harry says, adjusting his glasses, "forward me the logs from Lancelot's last mission?"

"Aye, Arthur." 

Harry disconnects the line and looks past his computer and at the playpen set up in the middle of his office, Henry biting the ear on his teddy bear and giving him a gummy, drooly smile.

He'd been reluctant to leave Henry with anyone, but he had to get back to work and training and taking on his role of Arthur. It'd been a difficult decision until Merlin narrowed his eyes at him, called him dramatic and told him 'you know you can bring him _with_ you, you melodramatic tit'. 

Eggsy'd raised his eyebrows and Harry'd been kicking himself for not thinking of that before. Where else is safer than a manor filled with agents?

And that's how Henry ended up in Harry's newly decorated office, gurgling happily in his playpen every day. Eggsy was in there every bit of free time he had and Roxy often made an appearance to have lunch with Harry and play with Henry before she was off on a mission or training. Agents come and go, some coming in to talk to Arthur--fully professional and composed-- only to catch sight of the baby and be reduced to a cooing, gushing mess in a sharp suit.

Percival once entered for mission parameters and stayed for 40 minutes, puppeting a teddy bear in front of a giggling Henry.

~

The mortality rate of Kingsman is, surprising no one, spectacularly low. Especially after V-day.

They lose Gawain.

Harry sits at the head of the table, stone faced as he proposes the toast to their fallen agent and friend, before going through the usual spiel about selecting a candidate to fill the space.

He disconnects the line, sighing heavily until Henry giggles (and Harry has to thank Merlin for the playpens mysteriously cropping up in multiple places in the manor, conveniently where Harry needs them) and falls on his side, looking at him. That puts the smile on Harry's face.

~

Eggsy shows up at the first gathering of all the candidates with a petite girl in a black dress, ripped stockings and combat boots. She's afro-european, sports big brown eyes, dark skin, long black hair in box braids and a guarded demeanor.

She also drenched by the rain. 

She reminds Harry _so much_ of Eggsy, when he first got there.

Eggsy, who _also_ is soaking wet.

Harry is there to greet the candidates and get a good look at them all (he aims to be a lot less distant than the Arthur before him), and can't help the small smirk that graces his face when he sees Eggsy and his proposal.

He's picking someone _different_. Like Harry did with him. 

Straying from the white, posh mold that Kingsman has been trapped in for years.

Harry looks at Eggsy and his candidate as the agent gives her a 'good luck, I know you can do it, yeah?' and a smile before she walks into the room with the rest.

Harry knows he picked the right man to love.

~

"Name's Vienna. She was defendin' a dog in an alley.", Eggsy tells him, drying off in Harry's office, "Ya shoulda seen it, Harry. She's small, yeah? But she was standing there refusin' to move for these four, big guys that were chasin' the poor pup 'nd harassin' it. She was just...unafraid. She believed she was right in what she was doin' 'nd didn't let the threat of bein' beat to a pulp stop her from defendin' sumfin' that couldn't defend itself. I ended up kickin' their arses but--" 

Harry smiles, "She has courage. And nobility." 

Eggsy beams, drying his hair with a towel, "'xactly. 'nd she ain't _mean_ , ya know? She's small 'nd guarded, but kind. She's gonna do great." 

Harry bounces a smiling Henry on his lap, "I have a feeling she'll do fine." 

~ 

Harry goes back to training. And it's...not as hard as he thought it would be. 

He'd shed all the baby weight pretty quickly (and Michelle had been both surprised and jealous), but rebuilding muscle was the goal.

After giving birth everything else doesn't seem to be nearly as difficult.

~ 

Eggsy's candidate picks the lock of the door after an agonizing minute and a half underwater for the first test. Merlin is both annoyed and impressed at the fact that a twenty year old got a heavy duty lock open with a hair pin. 

Eggsy's thrilled.

~

Henry gurgles out something that sounds a lot like 'daddy' as Harry puts him in his high chair and moves to warm up a bottle. He freezes, and Eggsy stops in the middle of opening the fridge.

"Did he just say--" 

"He did.", Eggsy grins walking over to their baby and leaning to eye level with him. 

"Did ya just say 'daddy', Henry?", he coos, smiles nearly breaking his face, "Did ya just say 'daddy', baby?" 

Henry emits a drooly laugh and makes the sound again, grinning up at Eggsy and Harry.

Harry looks at their baby, giggling and waving hands around in excitement in his high chair, and looks at his soulmate and partner's proud smile, and knows it was all worth it.

Every single second. From Valentines bullet, to here, and the future. 

It was all so, so, _so_ worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the epilogue!


	40. Epilogue

"Arthur, " Merlin's voice says, "Door to your left."

Harry doesn't respond, just adjusts his glasses and casually finds his destination. He _is_ posing as a multimillionaire weapons dealer, after all.

It wouldn't do to be seen talking to himself, would it?

"Gawain is a few rooms away, distracting the two guards on this floor, but you still want to be quick."

Harry slips through the door, scans the room for the computer and pulls the drive out of his suit pocket, quickly plugging it in and turning to leave, slipping through the door again, unseen.

"Nice.", Merlin says, "I should be able to get the files now that I have access to the system--shit!--"

Harry falters in his steps, expertly looking casual at the get together and yet waiting for updates from the quartermaster. He stays calm and unruffled, even nimbly grabs a flute of champagne from a waiter's tray walking past.

"They know you're there." Merlin tells him, and Harry can hear him typing furiously on his keyboard, "Meet up with Gawain and you two get out of there. Now. Lancelot is waiting at the rendezvous point."

Harry ditches the glass at a refreshments table and strolls over to where Gawain stands around the corner, batting her eyelashes and chatting up some armed guards. That are completely focused on trying to charm her.

Harry slips behind the armed men, gives her the signal over their shoulders and watches as her expression darkens.

Arthur blinks and the men are unconscious.

"Impressive.", he smiles at her, "Though I've been told we should be taking our leave."

"Right.", she agrees, "Merlin? A way out would be nice."

"Working on it.", the quartermaster huffs, "But for a start go down this hallway, I'm trying to find the route with the least amount of imbeciles with guns."

Gawain conjures up a hair tie seemingly from nowhere, quickly fashions her twists into a ponytail and they're off.

~

In the end the entire building ends up in flames, surprising no one.

Though, in Harry's defense, Eggsy did pick a candidate for the Gawain position that pretty much encourages his (and Eggsy's) numerous bad decisions, so when Arthur suggested to the young woman that maybe the entire building would need to go, she simply shrugged and threw the grenade.

So it's not his fault. Really. He was enabled.

It's no surprise Vienna was the one who got the position over the rest six years ago. She's incredibly intuitive, courageous and efficient.

Eggsy knows good people when he sees them.

So in the end, Vienna leans out of the helicopter and whoops as the building goes up, Roxy rolling her eyes and smirking as she maneuvers the aircraft off the ground and to where the Kingsman jet waits.

~ 

"If I had anymore hair it would fall out.", Merlin grumbles over the open line. Harry rolls his eye and settles into his seat on the jet, Roxy snorts a laugh at her fiance, and Vienna tries (and fails) to hide a smirk.

"You're all going to put me in an early grave--"

"Love," Roxy soothes, cutting in and adjusting her glasses, "relax. It's fine. In the end what needed to be done got done. No need to fret."

"The building didn't need to collapse!", he cries, and Vienna loses her composure and lets out a giggle.

"Merlin.", Roxy continues, "Don't have a heart attack. It's not like the building was even registered. No harm done."

The quartermaster huffs, and Harry is once again thankful that Roxy came along. No one else can calm Merlin down quite like she can. She _is_ marrying the man after all. 

Little mercies.

"Oi!"

Harry tunes back in to the sound of Eggsy's voice filtering in from his private connection. Harry severs the connection to Merlin from his glasses and takes a sip of whiskey from his glass, "Eggsy, dear." 

"Don't _'Eggsy dear'_ me.", the younger man says over the line, "Ya know what I've had to deal with? Henry got into the paints 'nd decorated the wall, yeah? 'nd Annakiya found JB's treats 'nd now the greedy little pup can't even _move_ \--" 

"So you've managed things well while I was away, then?", Harry says smartly and with a small smile.

"Yeah, be smug.", Eggsy grumbles, "I stand no chance. There's _two_ of 'em!" 

Henry was a handful enough. As soon as he was able to walk and talk he'd been a troublesome little thing. Sweet as ever, but mischievous and incredibly curious. Add in his baby sister and...

"Annakiya don't do that, baby girl.", Eggsy says, talking to their daughter as Harry listens in, trying not to laugh at his frazzled partner, "Here, talk to daddy."

He hears a shift in movement and then a happy, "Daddy! Sawubona!" 

Harry smiles, "Sawubona, love. Unjani?"

"Ngisaphila!", the girl says happily, and he can hear she's doing that bouncy thing she's learned from Daisy, "Ngikukhumbulile kangaka!"

"Ngizobuya nini maduze." Harry tells her, "Ebusuku namuhla."

The little girl gasps excitedly, "Ngempela?"

"Ngempela.", Harry soothes, assuring his little daughter he'll be back home soon.

Their baby girl gives a happy little squeak, and Harry can't help but laugh at his baby girl's enthusiasm.

~

_A few short years after Henry, a mission in collaboration with Kingsman agents native to Botswana lead to Eggsy finding a baby girl, crying in the ruins of a building that they'd been too late to save._

_And out of tragedy and failure to save the structure and its inhabitants came something and someone so beautifully amazing. Someone they'd love immediately and unconditionally. Someone they would lay eyes on and know at once that they were meant to be a part of their family._

_Little Annakiya. Wailing and extremely displeased with the noise and commotion._

_Since Eggsy laid eyes on her, he knew she was theirs. He'd stood in the wreckage of that building, the sun bearing down on him and his suit torn and ripped, not unlike the other agents, and heard a shrill, scared cry. Going to investigate and rushing once he realized it was a child, Eggsy'd stumbled into a partially destroyed room on the ground floor and found the cradle. Harry'd appeared behind him, saw the little dark-skinned girl with big brown eyes and known the exact same thing. Immediately._

_She was their daughter._

_She'd been crying and only stopped once Eggsy'd picked her up with a wide, awe-filled gaze and held her to him, beaming when she immediately grasped his finger and blinked up at him in curiosity. Harry'd leaned over Eggsy's shoulder and softly rubbed at her soft little cheek, smiling softly and looking like he'd just won all the greatest things the world at once._

_They had._

_Then she'd sneezed, Harry'd laughed and Eggsy'd smiled even wider._

_The Botswanian agents, their fellow Kingsman, had turned and looked at the pair as they'd exited the demolished building, holding their daughter, and Harry didn't miss the smiles they'd exchanged between them as he and Eggsy approached, carrying a sniffling little bundle._

_"I guess this entire day wasn't a failure, then.", Sebele said, the agent smiling tiredly and adjusting his glasses._

_Khama smirked, tying up her curly black hair and brushing dust off her tie, "No. I suppose not."_

_Harry and Eggsy had to agree._

_~_

_And of course, like most little cherished little girls, she had both Eggsy and Harry wrapped around her finger pretty much immediately. Henry too, in fact. The little boy was already fiercely protective of his baby sister and doted on her as much as their fathers did._

_The small boy was thrilled to have a little sibling so suddenly, and immediately bonded to the baby girl, grinning widely whenever she gurgled or grasped his finger. It was Harry and Eggsy's favorite thing to do, currently--watch Henry and Annakiya interact and grow close--Henry making the little girl laugh and Annakiya happily drooling all over her brother (who didn't seem to mind one bit)._

_She shared a lot of similar traits with her big brother, as it turned out._

_Like Henry had she'd despised the car seat, and they were at a loss as to how to soothe her until Henry'd clambered into the backseat next to her and distracted his little sister with smiles and silly faces, holding her hand so the baby girl wouldn't feel lonely. Their fathers' hearts warmed at the sight._

_Michelle immediately latched onto the baby girl and insisted on covering her with kisses as soon as she was brought home, cooing at her granddaughter and stroking her curls (and Henry'd been delighted at the fact that his baby sister had curly hair like him, though one day they'll have to tell him that their hair, though curly, isn't quite the same, exactly, and that's okay), bouncing her gently._

_Daisy'd squealed happily at the revelation that there was another girl to play with, and in an effort to keep her in touch with her culture as much as possible, Harry and Eggsy often took her back to her home country for their family vacations and the like, in conjunction with speaking to her in Zulu as well as English._

_No one should ever be forced to forget where they came from._

_Henry'd picked up the language incredibly quickly, and though being only six (and Annakiya being only three), knew more than Harry and Eggsy combined. They swore that their children were conversing and plotting things behind their backs sometimes, knowing their parents couldn't always understand them. And after an incident in which Henry and Annakiya snuck into the candy bin and ate half of its contents, their suspicions were confirmed._

_Thick as thieves, those two._

 ~

 And sure, Harry still had his bouts and battles with sadness (because it never _quite_ goes away, does it?) but something is...different this time.

He's not _alone_. He has his family.

Friends.

Therapy, medication. Hope.

The light at the end of the tunnel is blindingly bright, like his children's' smiles, or Eggsy's eyes as they gaze at him with love. 

It was worth it.

Every bit.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, we have reached the end. If anyone has any corrections with the language please tell me! I only know a tiiiiny bit of Zulu and I could very well be wrong. 
> 
> This has been so much fun!  
> Love you guys!  
> <3
> 
> ZULU TRANSLATIONS:  
> Sawubona- Hi!  
> Ujani- How are you?  
> Ngisaphila- I'm okay!  
> Ngikukhumbulile kangaka- I missed you!  
> Ngizobuya nini maduze- I'll be home soon.  
> Ebusuku namuhla- Tonight.  
> Ngempela?- Really?  
> Ngempela- Really.


End file.
